Everything Old Is New Again
by Lenni George
Summary: Chapter 15: Major Spoilers for "LoFi" and "Mayhem" - Picks up right after chapter 14. As always, many thanks to Susan, Tracia, and Tonnie! Rossi/OC.
1. The Return of David Rossi

**The skeletons in the closet and collective experiences are a threat to new beginnings.  
****Marwa Rakha ****  
Egyptian writer**

David Rossi was returning to the BAU and Aaron Hotchner had to admit that the news took him by surprise. After all, his old friend and mentor had left years ago and found himself a new, much more lucrative career.

Erin Strauss had delivered the news with the tone of voice that Hotchner imagined a physician would use when presenting an unwitting patient with a terminal cancer diagnosis. Rossi and Erin never did get along. Hotchner wasn't sure if it was because of Rossi's methodology or if she were, as the rumor mill suggested, one of a handful of spurned lovers that were left behind on the man's way through the bureau.

Hotchner almost laughed, trying to picture the two of them together. Rossi, dark, full of passion and hubris, paired with Strauss, the uptight ice queen. Although, he had to admit, if anyone could melt that ice queen, his money would have been on Dave.

Of the handful of women that Hotchner knew for sure would be surprised to see the formerly retired profiler stalking the halls again; only one was still assigned to Quantico, Lisa O'Reilly.

Lisa joined the BAU barely a year after he did. Being the new kids on the block, they bonded during those crazy years and had managed to remain close as time went on. She'd left the BAU back in 1998, when the government mandated that the FBI formed the Child Abduction Serial Murder Investigative Resources Center (CASMIRC). She threw herself into the development of the new unit and was now the Senior Agent and definitely poised to take over the Unit Chief position.

She loved the work, loved the cause, and spent many extra hours working with the National Center for Missing and Exploited Children (NCMEC), to solve as many missing child cases as they could. She told him once, after way too many glasses of single malt scotch, that her biggest mistake in life was not having children. It didn't take a profiler to see the motivation behind her devotion to the job.

Stopping at the double glass doors into the CASMIRC, Hotchner paused, still trying to decide what would be the best way to break the news to his friend. As he reached out to open the door, he heard her voice.

"Trying to decide if you're worthy to step behind the doors to my domain?" she asked, in the Philadelphia accent, that years of living in Virginia did nothing to tame.

He turned to find her standing, hand on her hip, smart smirk on her face. Lisa was tall, standing nearly 5'10", most of it leg, so it didn't surprise Hotchner to find her deep green eyes staring right back at him.

"I'm not worthy," he laughed, paraphrasing Wayne's World, a movie he hated to admit he watched and actually laughed at.

"I'll make an exception for you. Come on up to my office," she said, "I've got to send off an email to the Dallas office and we can talk."

He followed her into the large room, laid out, not too differently than the one that housed the BAU, Lisa's office was on the upper level, where Jason Gideon's used to be in the BAU and where David Rossi's would be. The room hummed with activity, unfortunately, it almost always did.

After walking into her office, he sat on one of the chairs in front of her desk, watching as she quickly typed an email. The sleeves of her blue button front shirt were rolled up and her dark auburn hair was pulled up into a loose pony tail. He knew that look signaled that she was knee deep in research and was settled in for the long haul. For a moment, he debated passing along his information.

"Okay, Hotch, what's up?" she smiled, leaning back in her chair. "Do you have a new case?"

"No, actually," he began, watching as curiosity played on her features. "I had some news that I wanted to share, before you heard it through the grapevine."

"You met someone?" she excitedly asked. She was privy to the details of his failed marriage, it was just one more thing they had in common.

"No," he shook his head. "It really doesn't have anything to do with me."

"You're stalling, and that tells me it's not good. What? Did Strauss say something about me again?"

"Relax. She actually likes you now."

"Oh, yeah, right," she said, rolling her eyes. "We're best of friends. So, if you're not here to warn me of my impending demise, what's going on?"

"I just found out that an old friend of ours is returning to the Bureau."

"Someone from the BSU days?" She went through a mental catalogue of their former colleagues, "I was just talking to Katherine Ramsland, so I know it's not her. John Douglass wouldn't pass the physical…"

"David Rossi," he said, waiting for her reaction.

She paused a moment, her demeanor changing to an icy cold that nearly matched Erin Strauss, "Oh? Is he giving a lecture or just stopping by for a visit?"

"He's rejoining the BAU."

Lisa nodded, taking it all in stride. "When?"

"Tomorrow," he answered, watching her process the information. "Strauss just told me this afternoon. You were the first person I've told."

"Thank you," she said, "For letting me know."

"Lisa," he said, knowing that she was holding back her gut reaction.

"I can handle it, I'm a big girl," she dismissed. "I put myself exactly where I wanted to be. It didn't end quite like I thought it would, but, hey, it's been a long time. I will be as professional as possible in my dealings with him."

"Very adult," he said with a laugh, "Just make sure that you don't try to eviscerate him and leave his body dumped in my office."

"Hotch," she laughed with him, "Come on now, do you think I learned nothing from my time in the Bureau? If I was going to eviscerate him, I certainly wouldn't leave his body in your office. I would put him through a meat grinder and dispose of him at the local pig farm."

Hotchner laughed at her response.

"Now, how he reacts to me? Well, that I can't speak to, but I'm sure we'll both be very professional."

"See to it that you are," he returned smartly, standing up. "We still on for dinner tomorrow?"

"Of course," she nodded, "Your treat, remember?"

"Damn Red Sox," he shook his head.

"You made the bet."

"I tend to do stupid things like that when I go for drinks with you."

Lisa grinned, "Which is exactly why you continue to go for drinks with me."

XXXXXXXXX

Lisa O'Reilly was frustrated. She'd been working on a missing child case that, to her chagrin, had turned into a serial child abduction and murder case. She knew when to call in the BAU and had worked the case as far as she could.

Carrying a manila folder full of pictures, she walked into the BAU bullpen, looking for Jennifer Jareau. Finding the bullpen empty, she walked up to JJ's office. It too was empty.

"Shit," she muttered under her breath.

"They're at lunch," began a male voice that was all too familiar. Despite the years that had passed, she would always recognize the sound of David Rossi's voice.

Taking a moment to compose herself, she turned to face him, finding him leaning against the door to his office, smile firmly in place. He'd aged well, damn him.

"Hello, Lisa," he said.

"David," she nodded, willing herself to remain aloof. "I guess I should say welcome back."

He nodded, "Thank you. Things sure have changed since I was here last."

She laughed dryly, biting back a sarcastic remark. "Yeah, progress is an amazing thing."

"Did you need something?" he asked, still casual, still friendly.

"I've got a case to run by JJ," she said, growing irritated by his casual friendly attitude. "We stumbled upon a serial."

"Can I take a look?" he asked, holding out his hand.

She thought about saying no, thought about telling him that she'd wait for JJ and follow proper channels, thought about telling him that she didn't need his help and he should just mind his own goddamned business. All of those responses would have been totally warranted, if it wasn't for the pictures of the children that were in that folder. As much as he hated to admit it, this really was his business. He was the best of the best and those children needed him. She held out the folder.

"Come on in," he said, walking into his office.

She followed him in, taking a look around. She was surprised at the lack of decoration, knowing that there were countless awards, certificates, and other memorabilia that could be gracing the walls of his office. Instead, he displayed very little.

"Good catch," he said, studying the pictures. "This guy's organized, meticulous…" He looked up at her. "Any suspects?"

"A couple," she said, "Everything's out on the shared drive. Here I'll show you, can I use your computer?"

He nodded, and she walked around next to him, leaning over and typing on his computer.

XXXXXXX

As she leaned towards his computer, he could smell her perfume. It was a soft scent of roses. Not the scent he remembered her wearing, but it was subtle and feminine and fit her well. Her shoulder brushed his and he was surprised at how his body reacted to her touch. It was, he decided, not a good thing.

"All of the files are out here on the shared drive," she said, "JJ knows where to find them, too. See, right here?" She pointed to the screen. "If you open the CASMIRC folder, the subfolder's named Tara MacLean, after the latest abduction."

He nodded, the irony of her now teaching him, smacking him in the face like a spurned woman. "As soon as JJ gets back from lunch, I'll show this to her. I can't see why we wouldn't take on the case."

"I'll need to be a part of this," she instructed, her tone letting him know that she would not take "no" for an answer. "I know JJ is the liaison with the locals and the press, but I deal with NCMEC and the victims' families exclusively when we work a joint case."

"You'll be with us every step of the way," he assured her.

"Good," she nodded, realizing that she was standing way too close to him. Taking a stop back, she spoke, "I need to go back and call my contacts at NCMEC and let them know I've dropped this with the BAU. Call me when you've run it past the team."

"I will," he promised, watching as she walked, quickly out of his office. Once she was gone, he released the breath he hadn't realized he was holding. It didn't take a profiler to tell that she harbored one hell of a lot of anger towards him. He supposed he deserved some of it, probably most of it. After all, he was the senior agent, he should have known better. And, the way they ended it was less than on friendly terms.

He could see that it took everything she had to bring this case to him. It was more than just the fact that she was breaking protocol, by not showing it to Jennifer first. What galled her was the fact that she had to hand it off to him. But, to her credit, she sucked it up and did what was necessary for the good of the case. He was glad to see that her professionalism had remained in tact.

She'd come a long way since the old days of the BSU. He could still remember the gorgeous redhead who's cocky bravado did little to hide her warm heart and compassion. Over time, the rough edges had been polished, as the saying went. The bravado was replaced with an air of confidence, but the warm heart and compassion were still there. Although, he doubted that he'd see any of it directed towards him.

One of the many things that David Rossi had discovered over the course of his life was that no matter what the surface might show, deep down, people didn't change much over time. And, if that was true in this instance, eventually, they would have to deal with the mess they'd created and walked away from and the attraction that was still there.

Working with her was going to be very interesting. For both of them.


	2. One Of Us Was Bound To Slip

**The present contains nothing more than the past, and what is found in the effect was already in the cause.**

**- ****Henri Bergson**

And so, Lisa thought, the game was on. Hotch had called her to let her know that the BAU was taking on the case. She'd thought Dave would have called her, and was surprised to find herself disappointed that he had not.

She cautioned herself that it shouldn't matter who called her, what mattered was they were taking on the case and maybe, just maybe, little Tara would live through this ordeal. She didn't kid herself, knowing that statistics showed that each passing moment decreased the chances of that happening.

"So," Rossi's voice began from the doorway to her office, "Are you ready to help us?"

She jerked her head up, surprised to find him standing there. It only took her a moment to regroup and she calmly said, "Whatever you need, just let me know."

"We need to interview the families of the victims. Can you set that up?"

She nodded, "They're all located in western Pennsylvania, near the Ohio border. How do you want to work it?"

"We've got nine families, if we send everyone out; we can hit three at a time…"

"Leave it to me. By the time you guys get out to Pittsburgh, I'll have them all set up."

"Jet leaves in an hour," he said, "Do you still have a ready bag?

"Me?"

"You said you wanted to be involved," he shrugged, "So, get involved."

"I can do that from here," she dismissed.

"Okay, I thought you might want to take up residence at the command center in Pittsburgh, but I guess you run things differently than I would."

She narrowed her eyes for a moment, fighting back the urge to say something smart. He did have a point, she could really help out by being there and it would make the inevitable press conferences much easier if she was actually standing next to JJ instead of doing a video feed.

"You've got a point," she nodded, closing down her lap top. "I guess I'll come."

He smiled. "I knew you'd come around to the idea."

"I don't need your help, you know," she quietly said, standing up. "I can do this job without your guidance."

"No one ever said you couldn't."

"No, but you came down here and offered your opinion."

"We're working as a team, from what Hotch keeps telling me, that involves offering my opinion," he countered.

She stopped and took a breath, not willing to let this escalate any further. "Okay, my bad. I misconstrued your intention."

"Lisa…"

"Dave, we don't have time for a stroll down Mea Culpa Lane right now, we've got eight dead girls and one live one that we need to focus on." She shoved her laptop into its leather bag and fixed him with a pointed stare. "I need to go brief my team on my plans. I'll see you at the airport."

**One cannot and must not try to erase the past merely because it does not fit the present.  
- ****Golda Meir**

Since moving into CASMIRC, Lisa travelled less frequently, spending less and less time in an endless stream of generic hotel rooms. Many years ago, when she was on the road more than not, she found ways to occupy the nights away, usually involving the hotel's bar. She'd found, over the years, that those weren't usually the best possible ways to pass the night.

After the short flight from Quantico to Pittsburgh, she spent the rest of the day setting up the command center and briefing the local authorities. She'd scheduled visits with the victims' families for first thing in the morning and watched as the BAU team dispatched to various crime scenes, leaving her standing there in an empty room.

Sometime around eleven, they broke for the night, to get some sleep before beginning the long day planned for tomorrow. But Lisa couldn't sleep, couldn't shut down. Instead, she sat, in her suitably generic hotel room, staring at crime scene photos, looking over pictures of nine little girls with dark hair and feeling about useless.

With a sigh, she stood up and opened the sliding doors to the small balcony and stepped out into the chilly Ohio night.

"Years ago," began Rossi's voice from her right, "We'd find other ways to spend our nights."

She turned to find him standing on the balcony of the room next to hers. "But, times change, don't they?"

"People change," he simply said. "I would invite you for a drink, but you'd probably turn me in for harassment."

"On a normal night, I would. But tonight, I think I could use one. I'll meet you in the bar in ten minutes."

XXXXX

"So," she laughed, draining the rest of her scotch, "That's when I told her that I will work my cases my way and if she didn't like it, she was welcome to reassign me to another office."

"I can picture that," Rossi laughed, watching as she swirled the ice in her empty glass. Her third glass of scotch of the evening, not that he was counting.

She'd had just enough to help her drop the chip she'd had on her shoulder and relax around him. True, their relationship had ended terribly. It was the final nail in the coffin of his third marriage and the beginning of the end of hers. The fact that he retired shortly thereafter only added salt to her wounds. Looking back, he would've done things differently all the way through.

"Ah, Erin's just an uptight bitch," she sniffed, and then stopped, looking at him, with a wry smile. "I didn't say that."

"Yes you did," he laughed.

"Okay, I did," she laughed, "But come on, you know she is."

"I'm not disagreeing with you. You know how I feel about her…"

"I'd say the feeling was mutual. I think the only one she still likes is Hotch, but even that is iffy at best."

"Ah, all the ladies like Hotch," he dismissed, finishing his drink.

"Yes, but Hotch is a good boy," she said, watching as the bartender refilled their glasses. "He has that restraint thing down pretty good."

"He does," he said, looking into his glass. "I never could get a handle on it."

"You're two different people," she mused, wearing, to his surprise a fond smile. "You're just a bit more…hot blooded than he is."

"Hot blooded," he laughed. "I've been accused of worse."

"You've done worse."

He held up his glass in a mock toast. "I plead the Fifth."

"Ah, the stories I could tell about you," she said, sipping her scotch.

"That goes two ways, Ms. O'Reilly," he countered.

She wore a devilish grin, "I'm just picturing how Erin would react if she were to hear those stories."

"I'm sure she wouldn't be surprised that I was involved. You, on the other hand…"

"Oh, yeah, right…"

"You have quite a straitlaced reputation, my dear," he went on, watching her squirm. "There are many in the Bureau, who see you traveling way up the ladder."

She contemplated his statement for a moment, then, still smiling, "I think you're confusing me with Aaron Hotchner."

"I may have had a few drinks, but there's no way I could confuse you for Aaron Hotchner," he lightly said, watching as she blushed.

"Well, I'm glad to see you're still sharp after all these years," she teased.

"And you are still beautiful after all these years," he said, wondering, the moment the words left his mouth why he allowed them out.

She shook her head, then, with a soft laugh said, "I was waiting for that."

"What?"

"One of us was bound to slip," she said, her eyes locking onto his. "You know, when you left the Bureau, I'd convinced myself that I really didn't feel anything for you, that everything that went on between us was just sex, just release and that our relationship, was nothing more than a fling."

"I don't think it was," he said, alcohol aiding the honesty. "Of course, back then, I didn't even think about classifying it."

"What did you think about?"

"Spending time with you," he admitted.

"When Nick and I finally broke up," she went on, sadness crossing her features, "He told me that he was jealous of you, because in all of the time he and I were together, I never was as close to him as I was to you."

"I'm sorry," he simply said, hoping she understood the full meaning of his words.

"Are you sorry we ended it the way we did?"

"I'm sorry we ended it, at all," he responded, watching as the weight of his statement hit her.

"I can't do this…" she said, standing up. Without another word, she grabbed her purse and walked from the bar.

He followed her, catching up to her as the elevator door opened and following her in. Once the door closed, leaving them alone, he turned to her.

"Lisa," he began.

"Don't, please?" she said, turning to face him. "Nick was right; I have never been closer to someone than I was to you. Looking back at it, we had an amazing relationship, except for your wife and my husband."

The elevator doors opened and she walked out and down the hall to her room, he followed her, waiting as she opened the door. She walked in, leaving the door open and he took it as an invitation to follow her. He did, closing the door behind him.

She stood, looking out of the windows.

"It was my fault," he said, causing her to turn towards him. "I initiated it. I should have known better."

"No, don't. I was not some innocent school girl led astray by her teacher. I was a grown woman and I went willingly every step of the way. Hell, I probably led you half the time."

He smiled. "I'd say it was about even."

"I guess," She said, "That I thought once you left, that you'd realize that you really did love me and that you would have called me…"

"I wanted to," he said, knowing how lame the response sounded. "But I thought you and Nick were still together."

"We lasted about a year after," she said. "We tried, but there was always something between us that we just couldn't get past."

"I never meant for that to happen."

"Didn't you? Didn't we?" she sighed. "God, David, if you would have only asked, I would have walked away from Nick, from the Bureau, I would have given everything up just to be with you."

"I would have never asked you to do that," he said, surprised by the depth of her emotion, even after all of this time.

"And that's what hurt," she said, her voice barely a whisper. "I was so naïve back then. You know, I really did love Nick. From the day I met him, I knew that he was such a solid, honest guy. We complimented each other in so many ways. Things were comfortable, safe, and we built this nice little routine. And then I met you." She stepped closer to him. "I wasn't exactly a saint, I'd been around, but never before had I met someone with your passion, your fire…no one I'd ever been with had ever gotten as deep into my head as you had. No one had ever pushed me further." She stopped and shook her head. "I am where I am in the Bureau today because of you and what you pushed me to do. And mostly what I did after you left, to spite you, to prove to you that I didn't need you…"

"You're where you are today because you are an intelligent, analytical, compassionate woman. I had nothing to do with it."

"And that's where you're wrong," she insisted. "You gave me courage in myself that I never had. Yes, I was good at faking it. I could talk shit like nobody's business, but I never really believed it until you made me see it."

"I've always been proud of you," he said. "I've kept track of your progress over the years and I'm not surprised in the least."

"Thank you," she blushed. "As long as we're going for full disclosure, I'll admit, I own and have read all of your books."

"Thank you," he returned, with a nod. He wanted to say so much more to her, but despite his talent and ability, the words failed him.

XXXXXXX

Lisa watched him, realizing that he was at a loss for words. She felt a strange satisfaction in the fact that she'd rendered him that way. She'd always imagined what she would do and say if she were ever face to face with him again, but this moment was nothing like any scene she'd imagined. Never had she imagined they'd be working together again, right back where they were years before.

"So," she said, watching him as he fought some sort of internal battle. "Here we sit, in a hotel room after one to many glasses of scotch. After all this time, we find ourselves back where we started. Kind of ironic, don't you think?"

"I don't know if I'd say it was ironic," he thoughtfully said, reaching out and placing his right hand on her left arm.

His hand felt like fire on her arm, burning through to her core. She cursed her body for reacting to his touch. She knew she should pull away, but didn't.

"What disturbs me about this," she began, watching his expression. "Is that I know, no matter what we say, we both would jump right back into that relationship if we could."

He shook his head and smiled at her, "You don't mince words, do you?"

"Can you tell me that we won't?" she challenged, studying him, waiting for a chink in his armor. Despite his commanding presence, he used to love it when she took control. With a quietly confident tone, she continued. "See, you taught me how to profile, David. And I've been profiling you all night. Tell me you didn't notice."

"I noticed," he returned, his tone even, his dark eyes sparkling.

"Want to know what I discovered?" She asked, placing her hand on his chest. She was rewarded with the most subtle clench of his jaw, causing her to smile triumphantly. Encouraged, she went on. "I discovered that despite all the time and miles between us, you haven't changed all that much."

XXXXXXXX

Rossi watched her, with an outwardly calm fascination that betrayed the inner raging of his body. She had learned early on how to push his buttons and clearly, she'd remembered. Still, he wasn't going to let her take total control of this situation. No, if they were going to make this situation work, they would have be on equal footing.

He knew she was purposely controlling her breathing, keeping it calm and steady. She'd gotten better at hiding her reactions, he noted, almost as good as he was, almost. But, as she had said, he'd taught her everything she knew and now, he was going to remind her of that fact.

"Neither have you," he countered, placing his left hand on her right arm and watching her eyes. Despite the even breathing, her pupils flared at his touch, desire showing in the icy green stare. "You think you've figured me out, do you? Because you've picked up on my physical reaction to your touch?"

Doubt flickered in her eyes, but she said nothing.

It was his turn for the triumphant smile. "I've already admitted that I'm sorry we ended it. I've got nothing to hide."

"If you followed my career," she said, with a defiant glare, "Then you must've eventually heard about my divorce."

"I heard in passing, a couple of years after I left," he admitted.

"Then why didn't you call me?"

"Why didn't you call me?"

"Because I was still pissed at you," she said, color rising in her cheeks. "So instead, I started working my ass off. You'd have been proud of me. I was so like you. I was relentless, single minded, and best of all, I had one hell of a lot of one night stands."

Her words were meant to sting, and, they did, but not for the reasons she'd thought. He felt no need to defend his life, he did what he did and nothing he could say would change it. What did hurt him was how she lived her life, because of him.

"See," she went on, lips curling into an evil smile, "I learned from you, Dave. More than you'll ever know. I watched you play that dark, sexy charm to get what you wanted. Eventually, I realized that I could use my charms just the same way. Hell, a beer drinking, red head with big boobs makes out great when she tries to pick up in just about any situation."

"Lisa," he protested, not wanting to hear more. He didn't want to think of her as lonely and so desperate for human comfort that she would throw herself at strangers for a night of release. No, that was his story; it should have never been hers.

"What? Did I cut too close to the bone?" She laughed and it was a dry, harsh sound. "You taught me well, too well."

XXXXX

She watched as he closed his eyes, fighting to control his emotions, opening them a moment later. Gone was the smug, triumphant look, instead, he looked tired and defeated. She'd meant to hurt him with her words and it was apparent that she had. She resisted the urge to comfort him. Instead, she stood still, watching him.

"You're right," he replied, the hubris gone from his voice. "I guess I did teach you too well and I'm sorry. I honestly didn't believe that I'd hurt you as bad as I have."

She held fast, not moving, not showing any emotion, watching as he studied her carefully. After a moment, she spoke.

"It's okay, like I said, I'm where I am today because of you." The bitterness she heard in her own voice chilled her. She'd won the battle; she knew she should stop before things went too far.

"I can see that," he said, and she could hear the regret in his voice. "And I will never forgive myself for that."

The look on his face tore at her heart. She'd gone into the discussion with every intent to hurt him as much as he'd hurt her. She could see that she had reached her objective, but it didn't make her feel any better. Instead, she felt like shit.

"I'll go," he said, taking his hands from her arms. "I'll see you at the command center in the morning."

She watched him walk out of the room, pulling the door shut behind him.

"Shit," she spat, running her hands through her hair.

Tiredly, she sat on the bed, deciding that she played the whole situation wrong. She resisted the urge to go after him. Instead, she changed into her pajamas and got into bed, willing herself to fall into a restless sleep.


	3. Wrapping Up the Case

**I and the public know what all schoolchildren learn, those to whom evil is done do evil in return.**

**-**_**W. H. Auden**_

"I've been trying to come up with some sort of mathematical correlation of the crime scenes," Reid said, studying the large map that had been tacked up on the wall.

"I can't even begin to figure out how you do that," Lisa said, clearly in awe and not caring if Reid knew. She'd know and worked with the young genius since he joined the BAU and she was still impressed by his abilities.

"It's not difficult, really," he said, with a shrug.

"All the same, I'm impressed," she laughed.

"How are you doing with the suspect listings?" Reid asked, looking at the folders spread out in front of her.

"There are four men who fit the profile," she said, laying the pictures out for him. "All four are convicted sex offenders and are registered. From what I can tell, these two…" she pointed to two of the pictures, "Andrew Kessler and Walter Graves…both travel along the western Pennsylvania/Ohio border frequently."

"Have you been able to pin down their most recent travel dates?"

"I'm waiting to hear back from both employers," she shrugged, "Graves has the perfect background…" She held the file out to Reid.

He took it and quickly read it's contents. "Text book abused child, in and out of foster care…

"I know, it's almost too easy," Lisa agreed, wrinkling her nose. "We so rarely get those slam dunks…"

"Maybe this is our time?" Reid mused, turning his attention back to his mathematic formula.

XXXXX

"My money's on Graves," Morgan said, tapping the picture.

"I agree," Prentiss said, looking around the table at her colleagues.

"We can call the local PD and have him picked up," Hotch said, looking at Rossi, who was deep in thought. "Dave, you agree?"

Pulling himself from his thoughts, Rossi turned to look at the younger man, "I still want to talk to Kessler. Something about Graves is just too easy."

"Some times we got the easy ones," Prentiss said, echoing Lisa's earlier statement.

"Sometimes we do," he allowed, "But there's something about the guy…"

He was interrupted as Lisa walked into the conference room. He could tell by the look in her eye that she was clearly excited by something.

"We just heard from the Aliquippa PD," Lisa excitedly said, "The owners of a small luncheonette discovered a large duffle bag behind their store this morning. Inside was one heavily drugged, but very much alive Tara McLean."

"Thank God," JJ said, under her breath.

"Was she injured?" Hotch asked.

Lisa continued, "Preliminary exam revealed bruising and minor cuts. They were waiting for her parents to give consent to any further exams, but she's alive."

"Did anyone see anything at all?"

She shook her head, "The duffle bag is in the crime lab and they'll be checking Tara for any foreign dna. We'll get a call as soon as we know."

"In the mean time, Morgan, Prentiss," Hotch began, "Head out and see if you can pin down Graves. Talk to him, see what's going on."

"And Kessler?" Rossi prompted.

"Dave, you go talk to him. Take Reid with you."

"We're on it," Reid said, standing up.

"I'm going to go talk to the Aliquippa PD," JJ said, standing and following Morgan and Prentiss out of the room.

"You ready, Reid?" Rossi asked, walking to the doorway.

"Let us know what you find out," Hotch said, as the two agents walked out of the room, leaving him alone with Lisa.

"I'm going to head over to the hospital and meet with Tara's family," Lisa said.

"Wait," Hotch called, "Before you go…"

She raised a brow, "What's wrong?"

"I was going to ask you the same question," he quietly said.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she lied, knowing he'd see right through her lie.

"When we left last night, I honesty thought you and Dave were going to be able to work together…"

"We are working together," she dismissed.

"And it's all you can do to even be in the room with him," He insisted, "What happened?"

"This isn't the time or place," she quietly said. "Look, we're both doing our jobs. No one said we had to be best friends."

"True, and it's really none of my business."

"I know you're asking me as a friend, not the Unit Chief," she said with a fond smile, "And I appreciate you looking out for my welfare, but…"

"But, now is not the time, I know," he agreed, "I just want to be sure you're okay, that's all. And, obviously, you've done a fine job of making yourself okay."

"I'm trying," she said, then, "I'm heading to the hospital. We'll talk when this is over, okay?"

"Go on, get out of here," he said, watching her walk from the room. He wasn't sure what went on between Dave and Lisa, but whatever it was, it definitely threw a larger wedge between them than the one that existed before.

He knew that both of his old friends were ultimately professional and that nothing that happened between them would interfere with this case. Pushing his concern aside, he walked out of the room to join JJ in consulting the Aliquippa PD.

He who makes a beast of himself gets rid of the pain of being a man.  
Author: Samuel Johnson

"So Graves didn't do it," Lisa said, walking into the conference room.

Hotch nodded, "He's not our guy."

"So, now we look at Kessler?"

"I'm waiting to hear from Reid and Rossi, neither of them have called in," he replied, concern creeping into his tone.

As if on queue, JJ walked into the room, "I just heard from Reid, they found pictures and articles of clothing from all of the victims in Kessler's house."

"But did they find Kessler?"

"They're on their way to his office to pick him up now…"

"Hey, Guys," Morgan said, leaning into the doorway, "You need to see this…"

They followed Morgan out into the office and gazed at the flat screen television mounted to the wall.

"And in continuing coverage of the stand off in Aliquippa," the news anchor said, "The Aliquippa PD and members of the FBI have cornered Andrew Kessler in his home. Kessler is a suspect in the abduction of 9 little girls in Western PA. Negotiators have established a dialog with Kessler."

"There's Reid," JJ said, watching as the camera panned the law enforcement agents surrounding the home.

Reid stood to the side of the yard, holding his weapon, watching intently. Out of the corner of the picture, Rossi walked to the doorway of the house.

"What the hell is he doing?" Morgan shot

"Negotiating?" JJ returned, her eyes glued to the screen.

"Walking into the line of fire is more like it," Lisa sniffed.

Hotch stood firm, "He knows what he's doing, watch…"

As they watched, Rossi made his way onto the front steps of the small house and, to their surprise, Kessler walked out onto the porch. The two men spoke calmly for a few moments before Kessler lay his gun at Rossi's feet. Once Rossi kicked the gun out of Kessler's reach, all hell broke loose and what appeared to be the entire Aliquippa PD descended on the porch.

"We need to prepare a statement," JJ said, pulling Lisa's attention from the television.

"Let's go…" she nodded, following JJ into a small office.

"I hate it when they do the heroic stuff," JJ admitted, with a smile. "stops my heart every time."

"I know," Lisa agreed, "That's why I'm where I am. I got tired of watching it and, on rare occasions, doing it myself."

"Yeah, but still, it must have been such a great experience…"

Lisa allowed a smile, "It was interesting, I'll give you that."

"Do you miss it?"

"I like where I am," she demurred.

JJ knew Lisa well enough to know when she was hedging her answers. She laughed and said, "That wasn't what I asked. Don't evade the question."

"I miss it," Lisa admitted with a laugh.

JJ sniffed, "Apparently so did David Rossi."

"I'm sure he's got his reasons," was Lisa's sly reply.

"Oooh, I sense good stories coming out of this…"

"Yeah, next time we go for a drink," Lisa laughed, "Now, let's go draft up this press statement."


	4. It Wasn't The Same Without You

**It's linkage I'm talking about, and harmonies and structures, and all the various things that lock our wrists to the past.**

**Charles Wright**

It was over. They had found Andrew Kessler and stopped him before he could abduct any more children. Little Tara McLean was resting peacefully at home, thanks to some really good medication. Her body would recover quickly from the scrapes and bruises, but no one could guess how long it would take her mind to recover from the rest of her ordeal.

Lisa knew that she couldn't let herself dwell on Tara for long. There were other children out there that needed help and every second she focused on the girl that had already been saved was taking away from those who had not been. With a sigh, she picked up her glass of scotch and took a long drink, draining the glass.

"Want another one, Lisa?" the bartender asked.

"Yeah, Dina, I do," she responded with a nod, watching as the older redhead took her glass and refilled it.

"Tough case?"

"It ended much better than I'd thought," Lisa shrugged. "Sometimes, it's just hard to shrug it off and get on to the next one, you know?"

Dina smiled, having gotten to know and like the younger redhead. They bonded instantly over their hair color, but over time, discovered that they had a lot more in common. "I keep telling you, I don't know how you deal with that shit day after day. I'd lose my mind."

"I'm not so sure I haven't," Lisa laughed.

"Oooh, don't look now, but there's a handsome older guy walking in…haven't seen him before, either." Dina said, standing a bit straighter, hoping to make herself look at least 15 pounds thinner with that small action. "You should check this one out, Lisa."

"I am not interested," she snorted. "Men suck."

"All of us, or just me?" Rossi's voice began from Lisa's right.

"All of you," Lisa returned, looking up at Dina, "Dina, this is David Rossi. Dave, this is Dina Tsirakoglou, the best bartender in the world."

"Hello, Dina," Rossi smiled, sitting down.

"Hello, Dave, what can I get you?" Dina asked, knowing instantly that there was a history between the two of them and deciding that this one was not one that she would even try to flirt with.

"Whatever she's drinking," he nodded at Lisa's glass.

"Glenfidich," Dina nodded, "Rocks?"

Rossi shook his head, "Neat, please."

"You got it," she smiled, walking away.

"So, you came to see if I've managed to drink myself into oblivion yet?" Lisa dryly asked.

"I came to see if you'd dropped that chip from your shoulder, but quite obviously, it's just gotten bigger," he countered, studying her carefully.

"Stop," she said, not even looking up at him. "There's a moratorium on profiling other profilers, remember?"

"But you're not in the BAU any longer," Rossi gently reminded.

She jerked her head up and eyed him with a sharp glare, "I will always be a profiler. I can't turn it off any more than you can."

"Lisa," he said, his tone soft. "Let me take you home. You need to get some rest."

"And you know what I need now?"

"One look at you tells me you haven't slept well in days. So, you're going to sit here and drink until you pass out? That won't help you. You'll wake up in the morning and you'll still be exhausted, but you'll have a hangover on top of it. I know, I've been there."

"So have I," she snorted, taking another sip.

"Here you go, Dave," Dina said, setting the glass down in front of him.

He handed her a twenty, "Thanks, Dina."

With a wink, Dina took the twenty and walked to the cash register. Rossi watched her go. If it were a different night, he might have chatted up the good looking redhead behind the bar. He figured her for about his age, she wore no ring, so she was most likely single, and something about the sparkle in her eyes told him that she probably knew how to have a good time.

But it wasn't a different night. He had another redhead to attend to and this one was not about to provide him with anything close to a good time, at least not tonight.

"She thinks you're handsome," Lisa advised, once Dina was out of earshot. "You could probably sway her with those dark, Italian charms of yours. I know you have a thing for redheads."

He decided that honesty would be the safest route, "There's only one redhead I'm concerned with right now."

"Yeah, but this redhead's not going to fall for those charms again," she lied, deciding that if he would just ask, she would.

"That's not why I'm here," he continued, placing his hand on her arm.

"Then why are you here?"

"Because," he quietly said, "I don't want to see you drink yourself unconscious, it's not going to make it go away."

"And you will?"

"I can help."

Lisa laughed, and it was a dry hard sound, even to her own ears. "Oh, let me guess, you're going to take me home and screw me until I forget about it"

Rossi turned back to the bar, picked up his drink and downed half of it in one mouthful and set the glass back on the bar. "Can you cut me just a little slack?"

With a tired sigh, she looked at her drink. "I'm sorry. You're trying to help and I'm being a bitch." She looked up at him, a lock of dark red hair falling across her face. "You got Kessler to surrender alive. Instead of being obnoxious to you, I should be thanking you."

Resisting the urge to tuck the lock of hair behind her ear, he shrugged. "You don't need to thank me, just stop fighting me."

"Yeah, I know. The past is the past, right?" she shook her head. "I have to admit, and this just may be the alcohol talking, that there were times, when we were working together, that first day, that I almost forgot about everything. It felt good to work with you again. I guess I remembered what I used to love about the job."

"Used to love?"

"Yeah, it's funny," she went on, wondering why she couldn't just shut her mouth. "The crew in the BAU is great. Top notch, nice folks, great to work with…"

"But?" he prompted.

"But, it's not the same. Come on, you felt it…"

"Yeah, but that's just me."

She shook her head, "No, I really miss that fly by the seat of your pants stuff. The MacGyver jobs we used to do to figure stuff out."

"Is that why you jumped ship to CASMIRC?"

She nodded, "Guess I like to make stuff up as I go, huh?"

Rossi shook his head and she swore she saw a look of admiration on his face. "Damn, I really did teach you well."

"Yeah, well," she shrugged again. "I'm happy where I am now. It was a good move."

"You've done well for yourself, Lisa," he said, a trace of pride in his voice. "Of course, I always knew you would. You and Hotch…"

"What the hell did Max used to call us? The Minor League?"

"Yeah, well, you've both graduated to the Majors, and done one hell of a good job of it."

"And watched as Max was killed, Gideon lost his mind, and you? You got rich."

He wasn't sure if her last comment was intended as a jab and his facial expression showed it.

"I didn't mean anything by that," she said, reading him quickly. "You probably were the most….enterprising one?"

"What did you call me? A schemer?" he laughed.

"Yeah, well, you thought ahead, always had your eyes on the future. Jason thought about the case, only the case, and nothing but the case. Max? Ah hell, I still don't know what he was thinking about half the time. But you…" she studied him, watching as he sipped his drink, his hand, with its ever present signet ring holding the glass. She could remember holding that hand, in secret moments, of course, wishing that she could hold it in public. But public displays of affection were not possible when your whole affair was as clandestine as a CIA operation.

"Me?" he asked, amused smile on his face.

"Yeah, you, you always thought that it could be something bigger, something better. It didn't surprise me in the least when your first book came out and when it hit the Times Best Sellers List. Gideon was suitably impressed, even Hotch showed a bit of excitement over it."

"But not you?"

"I knew it would happen," she shrugged. "I told you that a long time ago."

"You did," he allowed, "And I believe that I told you something similar."

"You did," she said, allowing a small smile.

"Do me a favor?"

"What?"

"Let me take you home," he offered.

"I don't want to go home," she admitted. "I don't want to go home and spend another night wandering around my condo…"

"Then let me take you to my house," he went on, sensing her protest, he explained, "We don't have to go into the office tomorrow, it's Saturday. We closed this case, nothing's open. Come out with me. You can sleep in the spare bedroom. You'd love the view from my back deck…"

She knew he'd moved out to a place on Little Creek Reservoir. From what she'd heard, he'd bought the lot and had the place built to his specifications, shortly after his first book went best seller.

"Come on," he said, standing up and holding out his hand.

"Go with him," Dina coaxed, standing behind the bar. "I'll cut you off if you don't."

"Okay," Lisa laughed, taking his hand and standing. "Let's go."

XXXXXXXXX

She'd dozed off on the ride out to Little Creek. It was a chilly night and he'd turned on the heat in the car, making it comfortably warm. As they approached Toano, Virginia, on Route 60, he stopped at a light, gently touching her arm, he spoke quietly.

"Lisa, we're almost there."

She stirred, opening her eyes with a start. "What?" she asked, forcing herself awake.

"Come on, Sleeping Beauty," he said with a chuckle, "Get your bearings. We're in my car, heading out to Little Creek."

"Damn," she said, running her hands through her hair, "How long was I asleep?"

"You dozed off about ten minutes into the ride," he fondly said.

"Some company I am," she sniffed. "I'm sorry. You could have woken me up."

He shook his head, "You needed to sleep. I hated to wake you up at all, but the days of me carrying you into the house are long gone."

It was her turn to chuckle, "Feeling your age, are you?"

"I've passed all of the Bureau's physical tests and am in the best shape I've been in years," he playfully boasted, then, with a wry smile, "But I'm not taking any unnecessary chances."

"Besides, I want to see this place."

"You won't see much in the dark, but if you want, I'll take you for a walk around the woods tomorrow when you wake up. It's supposed to be a nice day."

"Good thing I packed jeans in my ready bag, huh?" she sniffed, looking back to the small suitcase in the back seat. "Hotch teases me for still carrying one, but I've proved, it does come in handy from time to time."

"Here we are," Rossi announced, pulling into a gravel drive way. As he did, the motion sensitive lights on the outside of the house went on, revealing a fairly large wood and stone house.

"Wow, nice…"

"Wait til you see the inside," he promised, "And the back deck…it overlooks the water."

"Nice, very nice," she nodded, as he parked the car.

"Come on, let's go in," he offered, turning off the engine.

XXXXX

"This place is amazing," Lisa decided, allowing herself to sink into the soft leather sofa. Mudgie, in all of his black lab splendor, had taken up residence at her feet. "And that's one hell of a fire."

"I've gotten pretty good at this," he agreed, closing the screen on the fire place. He took a moment to admire the blaze he'd created, then walked to the sofa and sat next to her. Since her arrival, she'd visibly relaxed and the massive chip on her shoulder was shrinking with each passing moment.

"You're staring at me again," she said, with a smile,

"Was I? I'm sorry," he mirrored her smile.

"It's okay, you can stare," she ventured. "Although, there's nothing here you haven't seen before."

"I don't know about that," he mused. "There's this whole confidence thing that I don't quite remember."

"Oh, that," she nodded. "Yeah, that came in after you left. Remember? I had to prove to myself that I could do the job without your support."

"You didn't need me…"

"I thought I did," she shrugged. "And so did a few others. I'm pretty damn sure that Hotch, Max, and Gideon were the only ones who could confirm the full depths of our relationship, but there were some who definitely thought you had me under your wing and they questioned my ability to perform without your presence."

"You proved them wrong," he said, a trace of pride in his voice.

"And then some," she agreed, with a sad smile. "But, you know what? It wasn't the same with out you."

"You know why I left…."

"I do, and you had good reason. Hell, you're the only one of the Old Guard who's still around to talk about it. Max is gone, Gideon? Well, from what Hotch tells me, he refuses to talk about anything related to the BAU." She shook her head, sadly, "There is so much he could teach…"

"That's what you and Hotch are for, to teach what we learned to those who come after," he said, then gave a dry laugh. "Damn, I sound like some ancient Navajo shaman or something."

Lisa laughed with him, "I was waiting for you to call me Grasshopper."

"That was Kung Fu," he dismissed, falling into his best serene voice, "You still have much to learn, Grasshopper."

Still laughing, she rolled her eyes, "That didn't work when you tried it 20 years ago."

"You're asking for serene," he dismissed. "I don't do serene very well."

"No kidding," she sniffed, then, softly. "Why is it that I feel so comfortable here?"

"I'm glad you do," was his sincere reply. "Wait til you see this place in the day light."

"So, you really designed it?"

He shrugged, "I told the guy what I wanted, he put it all on paper and I agreed to it."

"Well, you did a good job."

"Thank you," he said with a nod. "Feel free to stay as long as you want. I've got no plans and there's more than enough food in the house."

"I don't think Mudgie's going to let me leave," she laughed, looking down at the dog, who had lay down across her feet.

"Good, then you'll stay."

"I'll stay."


	5. Stay With Me Tonight

**The worst thing in the world is to try to sleep and not to. ~F. Scott Fitzgerald**

David Rossi was dreaming. He knew it had to be a dream because, even though their current relationship was improving, there was no way on God's green earth that Lisa would have come to his bedroom door in a merry widow and thigh high stockings. Still, the dream was highly enjoyable.

The sound of Mudgie's deep throated growl woke him from his erotic scene. Mudgie didn't growl in the middle of the night for just anything. Sitting up, Rossi listened for sounds to indicate what had Mudgie's attention.

"What's going on, Boy?" he asked, throwing back the blankets and getting out of bed.

The dog stood at the door, his nose pressed against the crack between the door and the frame. Casting Rossi a glance for barely a second, he returned his attention to the door.

Rossi opened the door and Mudgie was out like a shot, running down the stairs, all the while issuing the same threatening growl. He waited, listening for the growl to turn into a bark, but it did not.

Curious, he made his way down stairs. As he reached the bottom, he noticed the kitchen light was on. Walking in, he found Lisa sitting at the table, sipping a glass of scotch and stroking Mudgie's head.

"Some watch dog you are," he laughed, as the dog's eyes shut in bliss.

"That's my fault," Lisa said, with a sheepish smile. "I'm sorry I woke you up."

"You okay?" he asked, watching her carefully. She looked exhausted, her skin pale against her dark red hair and black silk pajamas.

She shrugged, "This is what I've been doing lately. I fall asleep for about an hour or two and wake up at some obscenely early time."

"Have you thought about seeing a doctor?" he suggested.

She shook her head, "So that he can give me sleeping pills? No, no way, not me."

"Here's a thought," he said, with a gentle smile, "Have you thought about taking a vacation? Maybe just getting away from it for a while?"

"And go where?"

"Anywhere but Quantico. What about taking some time and going home?"

"I've tried that, it's not far enough away," she sniffed. "Magically, all of my dad's buddies from Philly PD find out I'm home and bring me their missing children."

"What about the islands?"

"Dave, the islands are for couples and groups of partying friends," she went on, standing up, "I haven't been part of a couple for quite some time and most of my friends work with me."

"So? That means you can't go away with them?"

"My closest friends are Hotch and Penelope Garcia," she said, "Do you really see Hotch hopping a flight to Cancun to do the bar crawl with me?"

"No, but I can see Garcia doing it," he countered.

"It's just not going to happen," she dismissed.

He knew he wasn't going to win that point, so he took a different approach. "You're welcome to stay out here for a while. You'd be surprised at how relaxing this place can be. Wait til the sun comes up…the view out of those sliders," he nodded at the glass sliding doors along the far wall of the kitchen, "It's good for the soul."

"Looks like it's served you well," she said, with a small smile.

"It has," he nodded, then quietly, "I don't want to see you burn out, Lisa. You watched Gideon…"

"I know."

"No, you don't know a thing, Little Girl," he said, his voice quiet but stern. "You've come a long way since I was around. But you're too far into the trees to see the forest. You need to pull back, step out of it, get away from it. None of us ever stepped away to decompress, so when we finally did walk away, it was a total break."

"You came back," she tried.

"I have my reasons, which we are not discussing tonight," he said, guiding the topic back to her. "When I walked away, I was fried. I wasn't any good to anyone. Writing my first book was cathartic, buying this place and coming out here was healing. Yes, I came back, but I'm rested, refreshed and able to look at things in a different light."

"I'm not that fried."

"No, you aren't. Yet." He took both of her hands in his. "You're on a destructive path and I can't sit back and watch you do this to yourself."

"You make it seem like I'm the only person who's a type A personality," she protested, "What about Hotch?"

"What about him?"

"He's a hard charger, just like me…"

"He has healthy outlets for his stress. He runs, he spends time with his son."

"And my chosen outlets aren't exactly healthy, I get it." Lisa sighed, looking at him. She knew she should just stop talking and go back to bed, but instead, she said, "My professional life is amazing…my personal life sucks. Guess you can't have both, can you?"

"Who says you can't?" he challenged.

"Do you know how hard it is to start a relationship in this line of work? If the guys stick around after they hear what you do for a living, they take off shortly after the second or third time that work keeps you from spending time with them. One night stands are so much easier."

"And not very fulfilling."

"They serve a purpose," she shrugged.

"What? Release? Physical contact?" he kept at her, waiting for her to break, refusing to believe that she had changed that much. "The Lisa I used to know wouldn't be satisfied with a night of anonymous sex. She wanted the closeness, the intimacy…"

"You learn to take what you can get."

"You settle for what's easy."

"And just who made you my Jiminy Cricket?" she snapped, finally growing tired of his badgering. "Yes, I miss all of that stuff. You have no freaking idea how much I wish I had someone to put their arms around me after a long day, or to have coffee with in the morning before work. But I don't have that and can't find it, so I take what I can get."

Despite her icy words, there was pain in her eyes. It was that look of pain that started the whole affair many years ago. He hated to see it then and, no matter what had happened, he still hated to see it.

Without a word, he pulled her into his arms and held her close. He expected her to struggle in his arms, but instead she stood arms at her side, not really resisting but not relaxing either.

"What are you doing?"

"Reminding you what it feels like to be held by someone who cares about you," he simply said, smiling as her body relaxed against his.

"Dave…" she said, anger dissipating. It felt good to be in his arms again. She leaned against him, breathing in the familiar scent of his cologne.

"You're not fighting me," he observed, as she wrapped her arms around him.

She pulled back and studied his face. "I'm not fighting you. I should be…part of me wants to."

"Only part?" he asked with a wry smile, "I must be getting through."

"You didn't say anything I haven't said to myself," she admitted. "I guess it just sounds worse when someone else says it out loud. How did I get to be such a lowlife?"

He laughed, "You are not a lowlife."

"I'm not? God, Dave, I can't tell you the last time I actually went out on a date, let alone slept with the same guy twice. If my mother was still alive, she'd call me a slut."

"Just how often do you pick up?"

"Not all that often…" she demurred.

"And, I assume you're intelligent enough to use protection?"

She blushed, "Of course."

"You're not a slut, Little Girl," he gently said, watching as a sad smile crossed her face.

"That's the second time tonight that you've called me that," she mused. "I haven't heard that since Gideon left…"

"You used to hate it when we called you that."

"That's what I wanted you to think," she smiled. "Secretly, I loved it."

"Just like Hotch liked it when we called him, Kid, huh?"

"No, he really did hate being called Kid," she laughed.

"I'll have to remember to do it on Monday."

"Make sure I'm in the room, okay?" she said, then sobered.

"What's wrong?"

"Here we are again" she asked, studying his eyes. "You and me…"

"Here we are," he agreed.

"So, where do we go from here?"

"Back to bed?" he asked, wry smile playing on his lips.

"I'm not sure I'll be able to fall asleep again," she admitted.

"I have an idea, but you'll have to hear me out before you say no."

"Okay…go on."

"Stay with me tonight, in my room."

"Dave…"

"I said you'll have to hear me out first," he reminded.

"I'm sorry, go ahead."

"Stay with me. I've got a king so there's plenty of room. You can sleep on the far side of the bed if you want. I just think it might do you good to wake up with someone you know. Besides, if you don't sleep, the windows in my room give you the best view of the sunrise."

She mulled over the idea for a moment. "Okay. I'll stay with you."

XXXX

Despite her protestations, Lisa fell asleep shortly after hitting Rossi's very comfortable king sized bed. She wasn't sure if it had to do with the amazingly soft sheets, the nice firm pillows, or the arms that held her close to his warm body. She wasn't surprised that after a moment of initial awkwardness, their bodies fell right into sync and they lay comfortably together.

She woke to find his arms still around her and his dark eyes looking back at hers.

"And how long have you been staring at me?" she asked, moving up so that they were face to face, her head resting on the pillow.

"I just woke up myself," he lied. He'd been awake since sunrise. Awakened by yet another dream of screaming children, he sat up in bed, looking around the room. As reality crept in to his dream addled mind, he found her curled up in a ball on the far side of the bed. This time, it was he who needed the comfort of familiar arms and he gently pulled her close. Without waking, she curled herself around him, resting her head on his chest.

She smiled at him, "Okay, right, sure."

Ha laughed, "Yeah, it's been a long time since I woke up with someone with your…level of perception."

Lisa laughed with him, "Going for the ditzy blonds, are we?"

"Now you know I have a thing for redheads," he returned in kind.

"Yeah, I know, but how many true redheads are really out there?"

"I just spent the night with one."

"Yeah, you did, didn't you? You were right," she admitted. "I haven't slept that well in a long time. Thank you."

He shrugged, "I had my own selfish reasons."

"Which were?"

"I figured it was the only way I'd get you in my arms again."

Although he wore a smart smile, she felt the weight of his words. "It would be so easy to forget everything and just fall back into a relationship with you," she quietly said.

"It would," he agreed, then, "But I don't think you've forgiven me yet."

"We both destroyed our relationship and I've forgiven us both for that," she said, putting great thought behind her words. "But I still haven't forgiven you for walking away and not looking back."

He locked her eyes with his, "I thought I was doing it for you. I'd screwed up your life enough and figured that if I just left it alone, you'd be better off. In some ways, I think I was right."

"And in some ways, you couldn't have been further from right," she sadly said.

"If I could take it all back…"

"Stop, Dave, please? We can't keep dealing with this guilt."

"What do you propose we do?"

"Move forward," she decided. "Step away from it and admit that we both screwed up and put it behind us."

"Move forward," he nodded.

"But, the question is, how do we move forward? And in what capacity."

He watched as she rationalized things internally, a thoughtful expression on her face, and fought his body's urging to kiss her.

"You still with me?" she asked.

"I'm with you," he returned, then, with a sly smile, "I was a bit distracted for a moment."

"Yeah, I remember that look," she mused. "You're distracted alright."

"Hey, I just spent the night in bed with a beautiful red head," he continued, tone still light, "You can't expect me to not be distracted."

"Oh, and I'm sure I'm a sight right now, too," she rolled her eyes. "I slept in my make up, my hair's all messy, not to mention I must have killer morning breath."

"Funny, I didn't notice any of that."

"You're still good with the smooth lines."

He shrugged, "I've had years of practice. Tell me it didn't work a little bit."

Lisa laughed, "Okay, I give, it worked a little bit."

He raised a brow, "Really?"

"Really," she said, still laughing.

"Hm…I'm going to have to try this again later," he said, with a twinkle in his eye.

"Maybe you should," she said, with a wink. "Now, I seem to remember something about a walk in the woods?"


	6. Cracking the Shell

"**A true man does not need to romance a different girl every ****night; a true man romances the same girl for the rest of her life"**

**Ana Alas**

"I think I ate enough for three people," Lisa laughed, as they drove through Williamsburg along Route 60. "That place was amazing."

"I stumbled across it one night during a snow storm," he explained, "Best Bolognese sauce, after my own of course."

"Of course," she allowed, placing her hand over his on the shifter.

Pulling his eyes from the road for a moment, he looked over to find her smiling at him. He returned the smile.

"And of course, they sat us at the romantic table in the back."

"Of course," he nodded, then, "I asked them to."

She traced a lazy pattern on the back of his hand with her fingernails. "And the strolling violinist?"

"He came on his own," Rossi admitted, "But it was a nice touch, don't you think?"

"What are we doing, Dave?" she asked him, her voice soft, almost seductive.

"What do you want to do?" he asked. Stopping at a light, he turned to look at her.

"What I want to do may not be the wisest thing," she continued, leaning close to him.

"What might that be?"

She leaned in and kissed him softly.

Catching the green light out of the corner of his eye, he turned his attention back to the road. "Damn short red lights."

"We'll be at your place soon enough," she promised.

With a raised brow, he spoke, "Ms. O'Reilly, are you trying to seduce me?"

"Do I need to seduce you?"

Taking her hand in his, he brought it to his lips and kissed it softly. "You don't need to, but I'd sure like you to try."

"Drive faster," she winked.

XXXXX

Rossi pulled the car up in front of the garage door and killed the engine. He turned to look at her, finding that the previous look of desire in her eyes had been tempered by a bit of fear. "We're home."

"We are," she smiled, leaning close to him. "Kiss me."

With a smile, he leaned forward and kissed her softly.

"You can do better than that," she challenged.

Sinking his hands into her dark red hair, he kissed her deeply. She responded passionately, and then slowly pulled back. "Let's go inside."

XXXXX

"Should I start a fire?" he asked, following her into the living room.

"Upstairs," she said, reaching out and taking his hand.

He smiled at her, squeezing her hand, "Lisa, are you sure…"

"I'm not sure of anything right now, Dave," she quietly said.

"We don't have to…"

"We do," she firmly said. "We need to get past the sexual attraction."

"I doubt I'll ever do that, Little Girl," he softly said, drawing a smile from her.

"Maybe I need to get past it," she countered, "See, I keep looking at you and these images of the two of us pop into my head," she said, her eyes locking with his, "Let's just say, it's distracting. Maybe, if we just give into those feelings, we can relax and work on the rest of it."

"If that's what you think we need to do," he decisively said, pulling her into his arms and kissing her deeply. "Then that's what we'll do."

She laughed, "I knew you'd see it my way. Let's go upstairs."

They separated and taking her hand, he led her upstairs. Lisa followed him, forcing down the thoughts that were fighting in her head.

XXXXX

When she awoke in his arms that morning, conflicting emotions raged inside of her. On one hand, it felt comfortable, relaxing, and she felt as if that was where she belonged. She could very easily stay right there, by his side, happily, except for that part of her that was still raw from the end of their relationship.

Yes, it had been many years, and most days, she really thought she should have put it all behind her. In many ways, she had, but this small part of her, the part that was responsible for the steel shell she'd constructed around her heart, refused to let it go. What worried her, however, was just how silent that part had remained for most of the day.

They'd both been relaxed and comfortable around each other all day. They'd taken a long walk through the woods, talking, laughing, and just enjoying each others' company. Once or twice, she was surprised to find her hand in his. It happened, casually, without thinking, she believed, on either of their behalf.

When they returned to the house, he suggested taking her to dinner prior to driving her back to Quantico to pick up her car. After telling her about his favorite Italian place in Williamsburg, near the William and Mary campus, they decided to shower, get changed and go for dinner. As promised, the food was wonderful, the wine amazing, and his company was every bit as charming and sexy as she remembered.

And the charm was working magic on her libido. By the time dinner was over, she'd decided that instead of having him take her back to Quantico, she'd spend one more night at Little Creek.

Excusing herself for a run to the Ladies' Room, she placed a quick call to Dina, to check on her car and ask her if she could keep an eye on it for one more night. Dina was more than happy to do it, for the promise of details of her weekend when she got home on Sunday. With a promise to call the red headed bartender on Sunday night, Lisa hung up and returned to the table.

As she walked into the dining room, she felt his eyes on her, watching her as she walked across the room. His expression was a mixture of desire and pride and it sent a delicious chill through her, just like it had years ago. She knew that for them to truly focus on what they wanted from their relationship, if they even wanted one at all, they would have to eliminate the sexual tension. And that was exactly what she aimed to do.

Now, as they walked up the stairs, she found herself back at war again. Her body was fully prepared to complete tonight's agenda, but the little part of her brain that had remained silent for most of the day had finally started to speak up. She knew her body would win. It always did, especially when David Rossi was involved.

"**The wounds of love can only be healed by the one who made them."**

**Publilius Syrus**

As they walked into the room, he pulled her into his arms, kissing her softly, then pulling back to study her face. The fear was gone, replaced by determination. He smiled at her, "You've got that determined look in your eye."

"I do," she agreed, returning his smile. "I've already stated my intention and my reasoning. Do we need to revisit that discussion?"

"We do not," he returned, "I think I'll be able to follow the program."

"Good," she nodded, "Now…you said you were going to light a fire…"

"You want a fire?" he asked, brow raised. She was not going to make this easy and in a way, he was grateful.

"I told you I did," she returned.

"If it's a fire you want," he said, releasing her, "A fire you'll get…"

As he set about preparing a fire in the stone fire place along the bedroom wall, she slipped out of her sensible black pumps.

He turned to watch as she caught her reflection in the mirror above the dresser and frowned. Although he saw nothing to frown at, he knew she was always hyper critical of her self. She was wearing a pair of black slacks and a white blouse, one of the outfits from her ready bag. He knew they way she packed, the bag contained professional clothing, jeans, sensible shoes, and sneakers. She'd already apologized for not having something better to wear to dinner, but he thought she looked great just as she was. Sure, he liked her in heels and skirts, but there was something sexy about the work look as well.

"You're frowning," he observed, still kneeling at the fireplace. "Changing your mind?"

"No," she returned, "If you must know, I was contemplating my poor choice in undergarments."

He raised a brow again, "Should I be frightened?"

"No," she laughed, "Had I planned this whole seduction in advance, I'd have managed to pack some very expensive, but barely there lace undergarments…"

Closing the screen on the strong blaze he'd created, he stood and walked to her. "I'm not concerned about your undergarments," he said with a laugh. Pulling her into his arms, he dropped his voice to a low growl, "If I have my way, they'll end up on the floor anyway."

Lisa shook her head, "Who's seducing who, here?"

"Sorry, I've overstepped my boundaries," he returned, a trace of mischief in his voice.

"You don't always have to be the alpha male, you know," she said, slipping her arms around his neck. She leaned in close and kissed him. "If memory serves, you used to be able to relinquish control from time to time."

"I always do where you're concerned," he returned, sincerely, drawing a smile from her.

She kissed him again, her fingers quickly unbuttoning her shirt, "Just remember this," she said, pulling the shirt open to reveal a modest, yet still sexy white lace bra, "This, is a one time only event." She slid the shirt from her shoulders and dropped it on the floor. "After this…" she continued, reaching behind her back and unhooking the bra. "It's your turn."

He watched as she shrugged out of the bra and dropped it on top of the shirt. "My turn?"

She nodded, "Your turn to take charge," she said, unbuckling her slim leather belt, "To pursue me," she undid the button of her pants and slowly slid the zipper down. "To prove to me that I can trust you and that you're really ready to commit this time around…" With that, she allowed the black wool pants to fall to the ground and stepped out of them.

What little blood was left in his brain was rushing quickly south and he knew his usually smooth communication skills were seriously spiraling into caveman quality, so he'd better act quickly if he had any hope of saying anything intelligent. Pulling her into his arms, he spoke in an urgent growl, "Be careful what you ask for, Little Girl," he said, descending on her neck, drawing a visible shiver. "I can be very insistent when I want something."

"Prove it to me," she said, gasping as he nibbled her neck.

He pulled back, studying her face. In her eyes, he found a mixture of desire and challenge. She had changed, matured, grown stronger and more confident. All of these things, he'd been happy to see, but looking into her eyes, he wondered if he really could win her back. Sure, the old Lisa, he could have conquered before he drove her home tomorrow. But now, he wasn't so sure that he'd win in his lifetime.

"Changing your mind?" she asked, and he swore he saw the briefest flicker of doubt in her eyes.

"Not for a minute," he returned, kissing her passionately. "Know this one thing, Lisa; I'll win you back, no matter how hard you fight it."

And at the moment, he could see in her eyes that she ceased fighting, if only for a moment, and allowed him to crack the steel shell around her heart.


	7. Pulling Out All The Stops

"**Courtship consists in a number of quiet attentions, not so pointed as to alarm, nor so vague as not to be understood"**

**Laurence Sterne**

Exhausted didn't come close to describing Lisa O'Reilly's status as she walked through the arrival terminal of Washington Dulles International Airport. She'd spent most of the week in California, working with NCMEC at a law enforcement conference. It had been a long, challenging week and she was more than ready to get back home.

She'd made the mistake of leaving her car at Quantico when she left for Los Angeles Monday afternoon. She didn't want to leave her car at the airport, and she surely didn't want to be caught in rush hour traffic, so she took a cab. It made perfect sense on Monday.

Now, on a bitterly cold January Friday night, Lisa wished she'd driven herself. After claiming her suitcase, she walked towards the doorway and prepared to walk out and hail a cab.

She'd talked to both Dave and Hotch during her week away and both told her to call them for a ride when she got back, but she wouldn't dare call either. Hotch had Jack for the weekend and where she'd love to see the little guy again, she didn't want to intrude on the small amount of time they actually had together.

As for calling Dave? Well, that wasn't going to happen either. Sure, he'd spirited her off to Little Creek last weekend and yes, they'd agreed to take another stab at a relationship. But, she wasn't ready to jump all the way back in to it as if nothing ever happened. After her very well received seduction attempt on Saturday night, she'd told him that the ball was now in his court and that he would have to be the one to court her.

Last time around, they just seemed to fall into their relationship and because of the clandestine nature of it, there was a hell of a lot of sex, but not a hell of a lot of courtship. Back then, it didn't matter, but now? Time had changed them both. Sure, they were both still FBI, but they didn't work in the same unit, nor did they directly report to each other, so their relationship would no longer violate the anti-fraternization rules.

That still wasn't enough to make her cast off the past and dive right in. No, this time, she would stick to her guns. This time, she wanted the courtship, the romance, the public displays of affection, well, at least when they were off duty.

He'd gone over and above her expectations while she was in LA, calling her each morning at 6 to wake her and making her swear she'd call him each night when she finally returned to her room. She did call him, and each night, they'd talk for at least an hour, most nights more.

As much as she enjoyed their conversations and as much as he reminded her to call him if she wanted a ride from Dulles, she wasn't going to call now. That would make him think she needed him and that would give him a leg up. So, no matter how cold, wet, and crappy the weather, she was perfectly capable of hailing her own cab and getting back to Woodbridge.

She walked past the limo drivers who waited in their uniforms, holding signs with the names of their passengers, only mildly envying those passengers, who'd be getting into comfortable, warm luxury vehicles.

Spotting a sign that read Lisa O'Reilly, she laughed, wondering what the Lisa, who scored the limo with the handsome older driver, was like. As she imagined some devastatingly gorgeous international business woman, the driver approached her.

"Are you Lisa O'Reilly?" the driver said in a crisp British accent.

Curious, she replied, "I am, but I don't think I'm the Lisa O'Reilly you're looking for."

"I believe you may be, Miss," he smiled, "My name is Nigel. David Rossi sent me and personally asked me to offer his apologies for not being able to pick you up himself."

"Get out, really?"

"I assure you, Miss, this isn't a joke," he responded, with a nod, then, "If you'll allow me to take your luggage, I'll escort you to the car."

Lisa allowed the man to take her suitcase and briefcase and followed him out of the terminal and to a waiting black Lincoln Town Car. He opened the door for her, motioning to the back seat with a flourish.

Lisa got into the car and relaxed into the soft leather seat. She smiled, thinking she could get used to treatment like that. As Nigel closed the door, she gazed around. On a small table between the seats was a wine chiller with a bottle in it, a champagne flute, and a white envelope.

"Ms, O'Reilly," Nigel's voice began from over the intercom, "Mr. Rossi wanted me to explain that I will not be taking you to your home."

Lisa pushed the intercom button and spoke, "And where will you be taking me?"

"To a surprise location in Virginia," Nigel returned. "He's left strict instructions that I am to deliver you there tonight without revealing our destination"

Raising a brow, she hit the intercom button again, "Did he say why?"

"No, Miss, O'Reilly," Nigel's voice returned, "He did not. He did however; tell me that you might try to protest."

"Did he now?" she laughed. "What did he tell you to do if I refused? Take me in at gun point?"

Nigel laughed, "I assure you, Miss O'Reilly, he did nothing of the kind. He just asked me to not take no for an answer."

"Well, Nigel, although I have a million things to do, I'll go along with this little scheme and won't fight you. I can't promise I won't fight Mr. Rossi once I get to this surprise location."

"Thank you, Miss O'Reilly. It's only a short ride, but please make yourself comfortable. I've opened the champagne for you and if you'll notice, there's a note from Mr. Rossi with your champagne."

"Thank you, Nigel," she mused, looking around.

"If you need me, just press the button," Nigel went on, "Other wise, please just relax and enjoy the ride."

After a moment, Nigel's voice was replaced with music. She listened for a moment, recognizing Sade's voice. She remembered a night, many years ago, when she admitted to him that she found Sade's music very romantic and sensual and that it really helped set the mood. She was surprised that he retained that bit of information after all this time. And now, she was curious, as well.

"Okay," she said aloud, "Champagne and Sade, huh? What are you cooking up, David Rossi?"

She poured herself a glass of champagne and taking a sip, picked up the envelope that Nigel had mentioned. Opening it, she found a sheet of very nice stationary, monogrammed with the initial "R". She recognized it instantly, remembering that she'd purchased it for him years ago, telling him that romantic men wrote letters to women. He'd never used it, until now.

Taking another sip of her champagne, she read the words written in his always surprisingly neat script.

_"Lisa, I'm sure that by now, you're grumbling about having too many things to do and how I've disrupted your over loaded weekend plans. You're probably thinking up some choice words to greet me with when you arrive. I'm sorry, but you'll have to put those choice words on hold. I won't be joining you until later this evening. But I promise, you'll enjoy what I've planned for you while you wait for me to arrive. Do me a favor, Little Girl, don't fight me. Just relax and enjoy this. Dave."_

Folding the letter and slipping it back into the envelope, she wondered what, exactly, he'd cooked up this time.

"**The resistance of a woman is not always a proof of her virtue, but more frequently of her experience"**

**Ninon de Lenclos**

Lisa was surprised when Nigel pulled the limo up the long winding driveway and parked in front of the entrance to the Valhalla Spa and Resort. She'd read about it in one of the travel magazines designed for people with too much money, that was tucked into the seat pocket on the flight home. Merely half an hour from downtown DC, this place was touted to be something close to Nirvana for the city's movers and shakers.

Nigel opened the door and escorted her into the lobby, where she was greeted by Jerome, a very courteous African American man with a rich Jamaican accent. After thanking Nigel and refuse the tip she tried to palm him, she followed Jerome across the lobby, lugging her overstuffed brief case and dragging her suitcase full of dirty clothes with her and wondering what it was with men with accents tonight.

Jerome handed her a key card and informed her that she'd be staying in room 714, which was a "deluxe suite", but before she went up, that she had been scheduled for a massage upon arrival. Jerome assured her that he would have her luggage, and her heavy wool coat taken to her room.

So it was, that an hour and a half later, following the most amazing hot stone massage she'd ever experienced, that Lisa finally entered room 714. Closing the door behind her, she walked through the living room area of the well appointed suite and straight into the large bedroom.

She smiled, as she noticed the large bouquet of irises and white roses that sat on the small table near the window. Irises and white roses were her favorites.

"Damn," she said aloud, walking to the flowers. "You remembered the flowers, too? You're pulling out all the stops." She noticed another envelope. "Oooh, another note," she mused, opening the envelope and pulling out yet another sheet of his monogrammed stationary.

"_Hopefully, your massage has helped you to relax and forget about the many things you think you should be doing. If you're not too mellow, you have a dinner reservation downstairs in the Golden Plow at 9 pm. Don't worry about digging through the dirty clothes in your suitcase, there's something hanging in the closet for you to wear. Don't be late. Dave."_

"What the hell are you doing, Rossi?" she laughed, walking across the room and opening the closet. Hanging there was a slim, emerald green silk tank dress. It was gorgeous and where the style something she definitely would have picked out for herself, the color was one she rarely wore. She used to wear it a lot, years ago; once he'd admitted that he'd liked her in green, saying it brought out her eyes.

On the floor below the dress was a pair of simple black high heeled pumps and a pink, plastic bag.

"This just keeps getting better," she mused, picking up the bag and looking inside to find a black lace bra and panty set with a pair of lace topped thigh high stockings, "So, the black lace fetish hasn't changed, huh?"

She stopped for a second, holding the black silk stockings in her hand, feeling a strange melancholy. He'd remembered a lot. Details she'd wondered if he'd ever really cared about. The music, the notes, the flowers, it was all very romantic, very touching. Yet, on some level, it brought back the pain of the way things used to be and how they ended. It reminded her of the depths of feelings he really did have back then, and of how easy it was for him to walk away and not look back.

"Stop it, Lisa," she said, staring at herself in the full length mirror. "Just stop it. Put that freaking dress on, make yourself look amazing and go down and have dinner." Taking a deep breath, she forced back the demons that were picking at the raw spots in her heart and set about getting ready for dinner.

"**Don't tell a woman she's pretty; tell her there's no other woman like her, and all roads will open to you"**

**Jules Renard**

David Rossi was not a man to give into his nerves, yet, as he sat in the surprisingly busy restaurant, he had to admit he was a bit nervous. When Lisa threw down her challenge to him last weekend, telling him it was his turn to court her, to win her affections, he took it to heart. After all, he did not back down from a challenge, especially when the prize was so valuable.

Knowing that she'd been working way too hard and taking little or no time for herself, he booked the weekend at Valhalla. Knowing full well that, if he showed up at her door and asked her to go, she'd find a way to blow him off, he began to cook up this scheme. He was surprised at how many details he'd remembered about her and tried to incorporate them into the whole event. He'd thought himself quite clever, especially the notes.

Now, sitting at the table, waiting for her, he wondered just how clever he was. She'd arrived as planned and had her massage before being escorted back to the room. The hotel laundry was working to wash and return the clothes from her suit case, although he had provided her with something to wear to dinner. He hoped she liked it. He hoped it fit. Hell, he hoped she'd put it on and just walk in the door before he slowly drove himself crazy.

This was not a feeling he was accustomed to feeling. Of course, in the past few years, he'd gotten pretty good at not feeling much of anything other than desire and sexual response when it came to women. Casual relationships and one night stands had taken care of the need for sexual release and companionship. He wouldn't allow himself the luxury of a real relationship. Not when he'd just fuck it up like he'd fucked up all three marriages and one very fulfilling affair.

Yet, here he was, given a second chance with one of the few women in his life who actually managed to mean something. Age and experience had taught him that second chances were rare and he'd be damned if he'd blow it again.

Thus came this whole production number and thus he sat, waiting like a high school kid wondering if his prom date would show. As he finished his glass of scotch, she walked into the room. He watched as she stopped and spoke to the maitre d'.

He was grateful to see that the dress fit and, as he'd imagined, she looked great in it. Hell, for as tired as she must have been when she arrived, she looked incredible. As she followed the maitre d' through the restaurant, her eyes caught his and she gave him a smile. He stood up as they approached.

XXXXX

"Here you are, Ms. O'Reilly," the maitre d' said, with a smile, "Can I get you something from the bar?"

"Scotch on the rocks, please?" she asked.

"Certainly," he returned with a nod, walking away.

She turned her eyes towards Rossi, who stood waiting with, what she believed to be, an anxious look on his face.

"You get ten thousand points for creativity," she said, leaning in and pecking his cheek. Before she pulled back, she quietly said, "This place is too ritzy for me to lay the lip lock you deserve…"

He interrupted her by pulling her close and kissing her deeply. "Now, what was that you were saying?"

Lisa laughed, then reached out and, with her thumb, wiped off the trace of her lipstick that she'd left behind on his lower lip. "I'm not used to these public displays of affection."

"Get used to it," he smartly said, as they stepped apart and sat at the table.

"When I got into that limo," she began, laying the linen napkin across her lap, "I had planned on reading you the riot act."

"I figured," he allowed.

"But, now, I'm not so sure I'm going to," she said with a smile, "This was a great idea and a perfect night away."

Rossi shook his head, "But that's where you're wrong, Little Girl," he began, "It's not a night away, it's a weekend."

"Dave…"

He held up a hand, "Let me finish before you complain."

"Okay…"

"Tomorrow, you have been scheduled for a full day in the spa, there's a whole laundry list of stuff they're going to do to you, only some of which I will pretend to understand the rationale for, but needless to say, by the time they let you go, you'll be sufficiently pampered to last you for a bit. Then, I thought we could come back down here and have dinner and maybe go down to the lounge for a little dancing."

"And what will you be doing while I'm being pampered all day?" she asked with a laugh.

"Believe it or not, I'll be holed up in our room working on the syllabus of a class I'm teaching at the Academy in March."

"You poor thing," she playfully said, "Working while I play…"

Taking her hand and bringing it to his lips for a soft kiss, he said, "I prefer to play while you're in the room with me."

Something about the smoldering look in his dark eyes sent a chill down her spine. "You know," she began, wearing what she hoped came off as a seductive smile, "We could have room service for dinner."

Rossi chuckled, "As tempting as that offer is, I believe you issued a challenge that involved public displays of affection. If I have you all to myself in our room, I won't be able to live up to that part of the deal." He leaned across the table, capturing her lips in a soft kiss, then, before he pulled away, he said, "But after dinner, you're all mine."


	8. Trying So Hard To Believe

"**There is nothing enduring in life for a woman except what she builds in a man's heart"**

**Judith Anderson**

The eight am wake up call came way too soon for Lisa's taste. By the time they'd finished dinner and returned to their room it was nearly 11. True to his word, after dinner, she was all his.

She wasn't sure if it was the exhaustion, the massage, the scotch, or the very obvious and very flirtatious public displays of affection that he'd showered on her during their meal, but something sure flipped a switch because once they reached the room, she responded to every look, every touch, and each and every move, with a fervor she hadn't felt in a long time.

David Rossi had always been a very exciting lover. He had the ability to move from taking her in a completely one sided selfish manner to servicing her every need and desire, usually without missing a beat. In all of the encounters she'd had since the end of their relationship, no one had touched her quite like he had. It wasn't just skill, because she'd come across one or two very skilled lovers in her travels. No, it had to be something more than that.

She couldn't nail it down but she knew it had to do with the words he softly murmured or the way his fingers touched her. Most of all, she decided, it was the look of desire mixed with reverence in his eyes. No man before or since had ever quite looked at her that way. She hoped against hope that he had never looked at any other woman that way, and as selfish as it may have sounded, she believed that he had not.

Now, feeling his kisses on her bare shoulder, his mustache tickling her skin, she felt her body stirring once more.

"What are you doing?" she asked, ruffling the hair at his temple, marveling how it was only tinged with gray, despite the fact that he was now in his fifties.

"Saying good morning," he returned, working his way along her neck.

"Hold on there, Romeo," she said, squirming out of his arms. "In case you forgot, you booked this whole Spa Day for me and I've got exactly fifty four minutes to make myself presentable and get downstairs."

"Make yourself presentable?" he asked, with a wry smile, his fingers tracing a pattern along her thigh. "That's what I'm paying them to do to you."

"I didn't say I've got to put on make up and fix my hair," she said, grabbing his hand before it reached its intended destination. "But I at least have to shower. I smell like…you."

He laughed at her last statement. "Good…"

"Oh yes, you've left your scent," she teased, pecking him quickly on the lips and getting out of bed before he could pull her back. "Are you going to spray the furniture while I'm gone, too?"

"Very funny, Little Girl," he groused, eyes twinkling. "Go, get your shower. Then get down there and let them pamper you."

"Make sure you're working hard on the syllabus while I'm down getting pampered," she smartly said, walking to the bathroom. "Shit…my clothes…"

"Check the closet," he yawned, flipping on the television.

She did as she was told and found all of her clothing, on hangers, pressed and apparently clean. "I could get used to having someone do my laundry," she mused.

**XXXXX**

By the time Lisa had returned to the room, it was nearly 5:30 pm. She'd been exfoliated, massaged, had a facial, a manicure, a pedicure, her hair had been cut and styled, and she'd had an expert make up application. She'd enjoyed every moment of it and despite the fact that she never wore even one third the amount of make up they'd packed onto her face, she thought she looked pretty damn good.

Apparently, Rossi did as well, as she noticed that his eyes were trained on her all night long. He was a perfect gentleman, with just a bit of playful letch thrown in to keep it interesting. After another amazing dinner at the hotel restaurant, they went to the lounge for drinks and dancing.

Upon arriving at the lounge, they found out that it was 70's night. Although they started the night with great trepidation, it turned out to be an evening of fun and laughter. They danced to every slow song, with Rossi taking particular delight in the Barry White tunes. Seems he knew every word and managed to sing them into her ear, with just enough of an exaggerated growl to keep her in a fit of giggles.

By midnight, they'd had their fill of 70's night and made their way back to the room. As he pulled the door shut behind him and locked it, she laughed.

"I would have never guessed you were a Barry White fan."

He turned to find her standing there, now barefooted, smart smile on her face. "Hey, the ladies always respond to Barry White," he slyly said.

"Pick up tips from the Great David Rossi," she laughed, stepping to him.

"Worked on you, didn't it?" he smartly returned, pulling her into his arms.

"Yes," she returned, eyes twinkling, "I was going to ask you to sleep out in the living room until the third verse of Never_ Gonna Give You Up_…"

"Wise ass," he laughed.

"No, really," she went on, "Every woman in the room was wishing they were me."

"You mean there were other women in the room?" he asked, his hands running along her sides. "I didn't notice."

"Oh, Dave," she rolled her eyes, "You really didn't need that line."

"That wasn't a line, My Love," he said, growing serious, "I meant it." He watched as her expression clouded. "What's wrong?"

She shook her head and smiled, "Not a thing."

She was lying and he knew it. "No, something's been bothering you all night," he gently insisted. "Talk to me."

Lisa took a deep breath and slowly released it. "Last night and today have been wonderful. You've been so attentive, so amazing."

He gave her a knowing smile, "There's a "but" in there, isn't there?"

She nodded, "You've gone all out with the limo, the flowers, dinner, the spa…and even last night, when we got back to the room. God, Dave, I can't remember when I've felt so…wanted. And the best part is, I know, it's all genuine."

"It is," he agreed.

"You've definitely shown me that you really did pay attention and you remembered some details I never thought you even knew. I see how hard you're trying to do all of the things I said." She stopped and caressed his cheek. "The problem is, even after all of this, I'm just not ready to put it all behind me…"

"Did you think that was why I did all of this?" he asked. He'd thought, while he was planning all of this, that she could possibly misunderstand his intentions, but he purposely did not discuss their future, or their past, at any point. He didn't want her to feel pressured.

She nodded, a blush creeping up her cheeks.

"Lisa, I did not orchestrate this entire weekend because I thought it would win you back."

"Then why did you do this?" Her tone was only mildly challenging, her eyes showed confusion.

"Because you needed to get away and you wouldn't do it on your own," he explained, watching as realization crept in. "I thought about sending you alone, but for my own selfish reasons, I decided to come with you."

"So, this was not some grand play to win me back all in one weekend?"

"I know you better than that," he softly laughed. "I know it's going to take a hell of a lot more than a fancy dress and a spa day to get you to trust me again. I won't lie to you and tell you that I didn't think that this might make a dent in your armor, but that was just a bonus."

"Oh shit," she sighed, sitting on the sofa. "What a freaking moron I am."

He walked over and sat down next to her. "You're not a moron."

"Aren't I?" she said, looking up at him.

He was surprised to find tears in her eyes. "Lisa…" he began, but she cut him off.

"I was so sure that this was some grand scheme to win me back." She shook her head. "I had totally written this off, wondering how you possibly thought you could erase everything by spoiling me rotten for a weekend. Here I was thinking you were the one doing the wrong thing and it turns out that I'm the one fucking this up."

His first instinct was to comfort her and give her some "there, there, dear" line, but then her recalled that he was dealing with Lisa, and thought better of that action. Instead, he reached over and took her hand.

"I know it's easier said than done," he began, holding her hand in both of his, "But you need to drop that armor just a little bit."

"I'm trying," she said, sniffing back the tears that were forming in her eyes. "But it's not easy."

"I just starting to fathom how much I hurt you," he softly said. "I thought I knew how badly I had…but…"

"Stop," she said, jerking her head up to look at him, "I will not ruin this weekend any more by rehashing the past. I've already done enough damage to it."

The last thing he wanted to see this weekend was Lisa in tears, yet, there she sat. Granted, it was of her own doing, but he had caused the damage the left her distrustful of him. She felt miserable, ungrateful, and he did not want the weekend to end this way. No, he wanted to end this weekend with her relaxed, satiated, and smiling. Bringing her hand to his lips, he kissed it softly.

"Did you enjoy any part of this weekend?" he asked, with a smile.

"Of course I did," she replied, with a small smile of her own.

"Do you think you could enjoy it further?"

"After being so stupid?" she shook head. "Why would you want me to?"

"Because, Little Girl, I busted my ass for this weekend and the least you can do is enjoy it."

She raised a brow.

"Do you think I plan things like this all the time?" he went on, watching as her smile grew. "I had to figure out just what in the hell a three dimensional hydrating facial was and decide whether or not your skin would benefit from it. I had to choose between a mineral wrap and a salt glow treatment, and worst of all, I had to figure out what size dress you wore, do you have any idea what a double edged sword that was? Trust me; I would not do this for just any one."

He watched as she tried in vain to hold back a laugh.

"So, after I went through all of that, the least you can do is enjoy it," he concluded, hoping that the storm had passed.

"I guess I owe you after this one, huh?" she asked, the twinkle returning to her eyes.

"You don't owe me anything," he seriously said, "But I do have a request."

"What?"

"Only that you believe me when I tell you that I will never hurt you again," he concluded, watching her eyes for a sign that she believed him.

"I am trying so hard to believe that," she said, her voice quiet. "I want so much to trust you again. But you've got to be patient with me; trust isn't my strong suit any more than relaxation. I've changed a hell of a lot since we were together last."

"Don't I know it," he softly laughed.

"But now that I know the true intent of this weekend, I don't think I'll ever be able to tell you how much it means to me that you would do this. Sure, I could have treated myself to a spa day, but it wouldn't have been as deliciously decadent as having it planned for me." She smiled at him. "I know, I groused at poor Nigel, but there was something exciting about the whole thing."

"I'm glad you liked it," he said, deciding to go with honesty. "Sitting there waiting for you at dinner last night, I was worried that you'd walk in and give me hell."

"You were worried?" she asked, clearly tickled by his admission.

"I was," he replied, with a smile. "I was fairly certain that you left your service weapon locked up back at Quantico, but not 100% sure."

Lisa laughed. "Wow, I made the great David Rossi nervous."

"You did," he laughed with her. "And if you tell anyone about that…"

"I know you know how to hide the bodies so they can't be found…" she laughed.

"If anybody does, it would be me," he agreed, then, "I'm glad to see you smiling again."

"I'm glad to be smiling again," she said, her tone taking on a seductive note. "And it's still early. We could…salvage…this evening."

He knew that tone of voice and knew where it would lead. "I seem to remember someone saying that I was the one to be initiating things going forward."

"I said you had to pursue me," she corrected, standing up and stepping in front of him. "I did not say you had to initiate every encounter." Hiking up her skirt, she knelt on the sofa, straddling his legs, and then lowered herself onto his lap.

"You're changing the rules as we go along, Ms. O'Reilly." He returned, his fingers gripping the zipper pull on the back of her dress and slowly easing it down.

"I'm a woman, it's my prerogative," she smartly said, slipping her hand behind his head and pulling him close.

"You're not going to make this easy on me, are you?" he said, leaning in for a kiss.

She pulled back, just a bit, denying him the kiss. "Now what fun would that be?"

Leaning forward, he took what he'd been denied and then some.


	9. Redheads and Green Beer

"**Human behavior flows from three main sources: desire, emotion, and knowledge"**

**Plato**

It was time to blow off some steam. Those were the words that Emily Prentiss used when she emailed the invitation to Happy Hour. Of course, being a mere three days before St Patrick's Day, it was time to blow off steam and drink green beer.

Through out her Irish upbringing, Lisa O'Reilly had attended many knock down, drag out, drunken good time parties for St Patrick's Day. She knew damn well that one such party was going on back in Philadelphia that very night.

Her dad and both brothers had tried to talk her into coming home for the party, but she stayed in DC. She was glad she did, as most the BAU and even some of her group from CASMIRC had managed to show up. The bar was full and the green beer and dance music were flowing freely.

Once the dj started playing the bad 80's music, Emily and Penelope had spirited her out to the dance floor. Despite the horrors they saw on a daily basis, Lisa was glad that she and her friends had not lost their ability to let loose and have fun. They did it all too rarely, so when they did, it was usually a rowdy loud affair.

As they laughed and danced to the Vanity 6's Nasty Girl, she felt him watching her. She knew he was doing it casually, so as not to arouse the interest of their co-workers any further. Technically, they weren't violating the anti-fraternization rules. Still, there were some in the Bureau, who felt Lisa had gotten where she was by riding Rossi's coattails. She'd done a lot to change their minds and wasn't ready to chance throwing it all away. Not yet. So, they played it cool around Quantico.

Hotch had figured it out early on. She knew he would, he knew the two of them better than anyone there. Before actually letting Lisa know that he'd figured it out, Hotch paid a visit to Rossi. He quietly closed the man's office door and reminded Rossi that he had been there to help Lisa through the end of the relationship. He knew first hand what she'd gone through and how it had affected her. In no uncertain terms, Hotch told his old friend that neither he nor Lisa needed to go through that again and he would not tolerate it.

After issuing his threat, which, Hotch assured her, Rossi took in the friendly manner it was intended, Hotch addressed the situation with Lisa. Despite the fact that they were sitting in Garrity's Pub, Hotch adopted the tone of voice he usually reserved for Press Briefings and reminded her of the fallout from the last time she tried to have relationship with David Rossi.

When she told Hotch of her resolution to make Rossi prove his intentions and that this time, she would settle for no less than a real courtship, Hotch, being a dutiful friend, reminded her that the lack of courtship was as much her fault as Rossi's

He knew the effect his words would have and tempered their sting with the disclaimer about not wanting to see her hurt again. Lisa knew he was looking out for her. He said the words her own brothers would say, if she'd chosen to actually tell them about it.

Tempered with caring or not, Hotch's words stayed with her, eating at her resolve. Sure she'd created the rules and he was living up to them very well. But it wasn't that she was taking advantage of him. She'd pulled him back from excess, reminding him that where spending money on her was very nice, he didn't always have to come up with grand schemes like their spa weekend.

His efforts were working and she felt her iron will beginning to bend. Still, she wasn't ready to totally give in. Not yet.

XXXXX

"Another scotch, Dave?" Hotch asked, holding up his empty glass.

"I think I'm switching to water," Rossi replied, casting his eyes to the dance floor for just a moment. "No use in both of us being totally lit tonight."

Hotch nodded, fully understanding Rossi's subtle reference. "She is definitely on her way there," he laughed. Having spent a few drunken nights with Lisa himself, albeit platonic ones, Hotch knew what a handful she could be. "Good luck with that."

"Yeah," Rossi nodded, "The trick will be getting her out of here before she's past the point of no return."

"Getting who out of here?" Reid asked, stepping up to the bar.

"Rossi's latest conquest," Morgan grinned, stepping up behind Reid. "Reid, you are watching a master in action."

"There will be no conquests for me tonight, Gentlemen," he said, picking up his glass of water and taking a sip.

"You're going home alone?" Morgan went on, clearly having had a few drinks of his own.

"I didn't say that," Rossi returned with a smart smile.

Reid looked between the men and said, "There's something unfair about you guys. Women flock to you."

Hotch laughed and threw up his hands in mock protest, "Leave me out of that one!"

"Can I help it if the ladies know a good thing when they see it?" Morgan said, his mock bravado turning to laughter once the words left his lips.

"What's your secret, Rossi?" Reid asked, only partially joking.

Rossi thought for a moment, and then said, "I'm smooth, like a fine, aged scotch…" Noticing that Reid was hanging on his every word, Rossi cracked a broad smile, "Don't take notes, Kid. I have no idea what the hell I'm doing. But trust me, my luck once I get them sucks."

"Hey," Morgan said, getting their attention, "Don't look now but there is one fine looking cougar coming this way."

"What's a cougar?" Reid asked, clearly confused.

"A good looking older woman," Hotch explained, watching as a petite, very attractive redhead walked towards them.

"That's no cougar," Rossi said, "That's my ex wife!" He stood up as the redhead walked up to him.

"David Rossi, you old fool. What are you doing here?" the woman said, with a fond smile.

"Having a drink, the same as you, you vile woman," he returned, as they hugged. "How the hell are you, Deb? What are you doing in DC?"

"Nursing convention," she replied, studying him. "I wondered if I'd run into you down here."

"Don't need to wonder any longer," he laughed.

Deb finally pulled her eyes from her ex husband and took in the men standing around him. "Who are the rest of these good looking men?"

Morgan held out his hand and with a charming smile said, "Derek Morgan."

Deb smiled as he took her hand and kissed it. "A gentleman," she mused, then looked at Rossi, "You could take notes from this one, Dave." She turned back to Morgan, "Pleased to meet you, Derek. I'm Deborah Chambers, better known as the second ex-Mrs. David Rossi. But my friends call me Deb."

"Pleased to meet you, Deb," he returned.

Deb turned to Reid and smiled, "And you are?"

"Reid," he stammered, "Spencer Doctor… Doctor Spencer Reid."

"Doctor? Wow…and you're a cutie, too," Deb winked, finally turning towards Hotch. She fixed her dark blue eyes on him and smiled, "Oh, I can tell you're FBI. They should put you on the recruiting poster. What's your name, Handsome?"

"Aaron Hotchner," he returned with a smile, taking her outstretched hand and giving it a business like shake.

"Damn, Dave, they sure don't make Feds like they used to," she laughed, turning back to him. "So, what have you been up to?"

"Believe it or not, I've rejoined the Bureau."

"I knew you couldn't stay away."

"What can I say?" he shrugged.

With a devilish smile, she asked, "Well? Is there a fourth Mrs. Rossi yet?"

Rossi laughed at her question, "Deb, I told you, I've sworn off of marriage."

"Until the next one comes along," she snorted, "Come on, I'll let you buy me a drink."

**Jealousy is the effect of guilt of ones own mishaps.****Robert Nellums **

"Don't look now, but Rossi's picking up," Emily snickered, causing Lisa and Garcia to snap their heads towards the bar. "That was really subtle, Ladies," she laughed, shaking her head.

"He's buying her a drink!" Garcia grinned.

"And she's got her hand on his knee," Emily went on.

"Wow," Lisa said, playing along with them, despite the sick feeling that grew in the pit of her stomach, "He moves fast."

"This is too good to pass up," Emily said, "I'm going in for a closer look." She walked over to the bar, leaving Lisa and Garcia on the dance floor.

"You okay, Ginger Snap?" Garcia knowingly asked.

Playing it cool, Lisa looked at her friend, "I'm fine, Pen. Why wouldn't I be?"

Garcia grabbed her by the arm and led her from the dance floor back to the area near the bathrooms. "Okay, now that I don't have to scream over the music… you are not okay with this."

"Pen, what possible difference would it make to me if Rossi picks up?"

"I don't know, Lisa, you tell me," she went on. "Those pretty green eyes of yours were just about shooting flames at him…" A look of understanding formed on Garcia's face. "You're crushing on him, aren't you?"

Thinking fast, but not wanting to tell her friend a lie, Lisa said, "Remember the guy I told you about?"

"You've told me about a couple of guys," Garcia returned, "Want to narrow it down?"

"THE guy," she repeated, watching as her blonde friend finally understood.

"Rossi was the married man?" Garcia asked, clearly shocked, "No!"

Lisa nodded.

"Oh, Darling, that explains so much of your behavior since he showed up." She patted Lisa's arm. "Do you want to leave? I can go get your purse."

"No," Lisa said, jealousy giving way to indignance as she wondered what would possess him to do something so stupid as to pick up right in front of her. "The day David Rossi makes me leave a bar is the day I hang it up."

"What are you going to do?" she asked, knowing Lisa had to be plotting something.

"Go over and introduce myself to his new friend?" she asked, with a grin.

"Oooh, this I have to see!" Garcia chortled, following Lisa across the room.

XXXXX

"So, there's really no fourth Mrs. Rossi? Deb asked, finding it hard to believe.

Rossi shrugged, noticing that Hotch, Reid, and Morgan had turned their attentions elsewhere. They were still; however, close enough to pick up on the conversation, so he chose his words carefully. "You got me, Deb. I am seeing someone."

His ex-wife smiled, "I knew it! What's she like? Wait, let me guess. She's 21, tall, blonde and a runway model."

Rossi laughed, "Deb, I'm not getting any younger. 21?"

"Oh, okay," Deb continued, playfully, "She's a 25 year old blonde runway model."

"Actually," he returned with a wry smile. "She's a redhead."

Deb shook her head and teasingly said, "Once you have a red head, you never go back."

"Ah, yes, but she's a true red head," he winked.

"Oh, I'm wounded; you're giving away my secrets! So, where did you meet this one?" she asked.

Out of the corner of his eye, Rossi noticed Lisa and Garcia walking across the dance floor. Lisa was taking long purposefully strides, and although she wore a smile, the flash of her eyes told him all was not well in Lisa-ville. The truly evil smile on Garcia's face as she walked double time to keep up with her, confirmed his suspicions. Lisa was not happy.

As he contemplated what could be the cause of Lisa's displeasure, she stepped up next to him. The bar was crowded, so she had to stand close, but she purposely pressed her side against his, closer than necessary. Instead of turning to speak to him, she leaned her elbows on the bar, flashing the bartender a healthy dose of cleavage and fixing the man with a sexy smile.

"What can I get you, Gorgeous?" the burly, blonde bartender asked.

"A shot of Jack with a beer back," Lisa purred.

The bartended didn't pull his eyes from Lisa for a moment, as he poured her a shot of Jack Daniels and set it down in front of her.

Lisa picked up the shot and downed it quickly, setting the glass back onto the bar and smiling.

"That looked so good going down, I'm gonna set you up with another," Blond and Burly smiled, refilling her glass, then walking off to get her beer.

Rossi leaned in close and in a quiet voice asked, "What are you doing?"

"I could ask you the same question," she returned, fixing him with a narrow eyed stare. "Who's your friend?"

Rossi laughed, "Friend? Not quite. This is my ex wife." Leaning back, he made the introductions, "Deb Chambers, Lisa O'Reilly."

"Another redhead!" Deb grinned, shaking Lisa's hand. With a knowing smile, she asked, "And how do you know Dave?"

"We work together," Lisa returned, sizing up the petite red head. She stood barely five feet tall, but with her big blue eyes and deep red hair, she had a larger presence. She was a very beautiful woman and Lisa decided that Deb and Rossi made one hell of an attractive couple.

Deb nodded, "They keep making these profilers prettier and prettier, Dave. Did you have something to do with this?"

"Unfortunately, Deb, she's an ex-profiler," he said, with a wink. "She jumped ship to another unit."

"Dave, you mean you chased off another good looking red head?" she teased.

"If you only knew," Lisa laughed.

XXXXX

"How weird is it that I like your ex-wife?" Lisa laughed as they drove along Route 1 North. "Although, I can see why she's your ex…" She turned her eyes towards him, finding him staring out at the road, his jaw set, his eyes dark. She'd seen that look before. He was pissed. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he responded, the word coming out short and rough.

"No, that's not a "nothing" look. Spill it, Dave. You're pissed about something."

Stopping at a red light, he turned to look at her. When he spoke, his voice was a low rumble. "You honestly thought I was hitting on another woman?"

"That's what this is about?" she asked, surprised at his reaction. Back at the bar, they'd actually had a good laugh about it. She thought the issue had been resolved. She was wrong. "I jumped to conclusions, I was wrong."

"No shit," he spat, as the light turned green and he returned his attention to the road.

"You're really pissed at me," she said, watching as his hands gripped the wheel.

"I'll get over it," he shrugged.

Angered by the way he was shutting down; she reached out and placed her hand on his arm. "So you're just going to shut me out? You're not even going to talk about it?"

"I cannot talk to you about this while I'm driving."

Without a second thought, she shot, "Well then pull the hell over."

Jerking the wheel, Rossi pulled the car onto the wide gravel shoulder and put it into park.

"What the hell?" she began, startled by his actions.

"You're damn right, I'm pissed," he began, turning to look at her. "And yes, it's because you thought I was picking Deb up."

"You bought her a drink, she was touching you, she _hugged_ you," she explained, "How was I supposed to react to that?"

"You were supposed to give me the benefit of a doubt," he seethed. "Jesus-fricking-Christ. I've been knocking myself out for the past two months just trying to chip at that God Damned fortress you've built around your heart. Do you honestly think I'd throw all of that work away for some strange piece of ass?"

She found herself unable to speak, surprised by the depth of his emotion. Finally, she shot back, "Given our track record, I wasn't sure what you'd do."

"Come on, Lisa. That's all you can come up with? Since that first night back in Ohio, I've been paying for sins we both committed ten years ago and paying dearly but still you don't trust me?"

"Sins we both committed?"

"Yes, both of us," he went on, clearly on a roll, "You told me I didn't court you, that I didn't go out of my way for you and you know what? I didn't, but you sure as shit went along with it. Never once did you complain about any lack of romance. You were just as adept at arranging the adjoining hotel rooms and room service dinners as I was. So, it wasn't all my fault."

Lisa looked at him, stunned by his accusations. Not because he'd falsely accused her, but because it was true. "Oh, so it's all my fault now, huh?" she shot back.

"We were both at fault," he allowed, then slammed his hand onto the dash board and growled, "Damnit, Lisa, what the hell else do I have to do to prove to you that I love you? The whole frigging world can see it, but you."

Lisa wished she didn't have so much to drink. She wanted to say something intelligent, to give him some perfect response, but all she could come up with was, "You love me?"

He opened his mouth to reply, but stopped, clearly rethinking his words. "I do," he said, his voice softening, "I love you and it scares the hell out of me because I have never gone this out of my way for a woman. Never."

Lisa tried in vain to hold back a smile.

"So you tell me," he said, his posture relaxing a bit, showing that the worst of the storm was over. "Am I wasting my time here? Are you ever going to let me in? What is it that you want me to do?"

"You just did it," she replied.

"Don't speak in Cryptic, Little Girl, I'm too far gone for that."

"I asked you to court me and you have," she explained. "I hope you never stop, because you know what? I love it, I love every bit of it, the attention, the dates, the romance. I don't expect it every day, but I don't ever want to lose it."

"I don't either," he admitted, with a soft smile.

"I'm glad to hear it," she returned the smile. "I also asked you to prove to me that you care, that you really love me. And you did…just now."

"Arguing with you showed you that I love you?" he tiredly said.

"That display of emotion, Dave," she returned, "The fact that you argued with me and in the middle of it all, when your emotions were totally raw and honest, you told me that you love me."

He shook his head and smiled at her, "You are unlike any other woman I've ever met, you do know that, don't you?"

Lisa smiled back at him, "And that's why you stepped up for Round Two." She leaned forward and kissed him softly. "Take me home, Dave."


	10. Nightmares

"**Do you know the terror of he who falls asleep? To the very toes he is terrified, because the ground gives way under him, and the dream begins."**

**Friedrich Nietzsche**

The children were screaming. They always screamed. There was, he had learned, nothing he could do to stop their screaming. Nothing, that is, short of waking up. He'd gotten really good at pulling himself out of the horror of that dream. He only wished he could prevent himself from dreaming it at all.

Jerking awake, he sat up, blinking his eyes and getting his bearings. He'd gotten accustomed to waking up, bathed in sweat, heart beating rapidly, only to find himself in his own bedroom. Tonight, however, he found himself waking up in Lisa's bedroom.

Much to his chagrin, Lisa woke with him and he found her looking at him, concern etched on her sleepy features.

"Don't even tell me that wasn't a nightmare," she said, sitting up.

It wasn't "a nightmare"; it was the same nightmare he'd been having for twenty years. It came and went, usually getting the most repetitive around the anniversary of the Galens' murder, in April. This year, the dreams had intensified earlier than normal, ramping up in late March. He'd been doing his best to keep them from Lisa, not willing to let her see him in this state. But it was getting harder and harder to hide. This year, they'd gotten more graphic, more violent and when he finally did wake himself, he was a wreck.

"It was," he quietly said, rubbing his hands over his face and willing his breathing to slow.

"Which case?" she asked.

"Remember the Galen murders?"

Lisa thought for a moment, "The guy killed the couple with an axe, while the kids were still in the house."

He nodded. "It's never been solved."

"The charm bracelet you have mounted in a frame," she softly said, "The one that hangs on the wall in your office with your awards…"

"Their grandmother gave it to me. Their mother had been wearing it."

"That was what? Twenty years ago?"

"Twenty years ago this April."

"It still eats at you," she said, her voice still soft. She took his hand in hers, "And the nightmares are getting worse."

He thought he had been successful in hiding them from her; apparently, he hadn't done as good of a job as he'd thought. "You knew?"

"This isn't the first night you woke up thrashing around."

"Why haven't you mentioned it?"

"Because I know you, if you wanted to talk about it, you'd bring it up. Otherwise you'd give me some bullshit answer and we'd go back to sleep." She squeezed his hand, "This case is what brought you back to the Bureau, isn't it? All the lines about being bored at home were just a smoke screen."

He nodded, "I always had my eyes open for new leads. I've got contacts, but there's only so far you can go without a badge."

"So you came back hoping you'd be able to solve a twenty year old cold case?" her tone was sympathetic, not critical and he was touched by it.

"I made a promise to the grand mother," he admitted.

"You broke your own rule, never promise you'll solve the case, only promise that you'll do your best."

"With the resources we have now, I should be able to solve this case."

"Are you working on it?"

He shrugged, "I haven't had time. I hit the ground running once I came back."

"Maybe you need to make the time."

"Maybe I do," he agreed. He didn't want to have this discussion with her, not in the middle of the night anyway. "I'm sorry I woke you."

"You didn't do it on purpose," she dismissed, lying back onto the pillows. "Let's go back to sleep." She held her arms open, "Come 'ere."

He lay with her, resting his head on her chest, and felt her arms wrap around him. He knew he wouldn't fall back to sleep tonight, but he would gladly take the comfort she offered.

"I love you, David Rossi," she softly said, pressing her lips to his forehead. "I know I haven't said it yet, but I do."

Moving so that they were face to face, he studied her eyes. "So let me get this straight," he began, his hand traveling along her side. "I bust my ass for months and it takes a nightmare to get you to finally tell me that you love me?"

"The nightmare was not what provoked the I love you," she said with a gentle laugh. "Come on, you're the best profiler in the Bureau, you can figure it out."

"You're going to turn my hair gray, Little Girl," he sighed, then said, "Not that I'd ever be able to figure out that strange mind of yours, but I'm going to say that it wasn't the nightmare, but the fact that I'm still holding to the promise I made 20 years ago. It shows I'm honorable."

"Nope," she returned, smartly. "Try again, Agent Rossi."

"I'm glad you're on our side," he muttered.

"Okay, it's late and you're not in the best frame of mind," she said, kissing him softly. "I love it when I see your human side, beyond the slick, smooth exterior."

"You see that all the time," he dismissed, "I don't sing Barry White for just anybody, you know."

"God, I hope not," she laughed. "I've seen the silly you, the sexy you, the pissed off you, but I don't get to see the fragile you. The vulnerable side doesn't show very often."

"As well it shouldn't," he sniffed. "I'm not a new age sensitive male, never will be."

"And I don't want you to be," she countered. "But, I don't want you to ever to hide that from me. I know first hand the shit you deal with every day. I see it too. There are days that I come home and cry it all out. I know that's not your style, but I don't want you to pretend that it doesn't effect you. You can come to me just to talk…or just for a hug. I'm really good at listening," she kissed him again.

She was easy to talk to, always had been. But tonight, he didn't want to talk. He just wanted to be close to her and block out the memories of the screaming children. He control of the next kiss, deepening it, savoring it, his hands traveling the along her sides, past her waist. They settled on the hem of her short silk nightgown, tugging it up and over her hips. Leaning above her, he bent and kissed her. "Say it again, Little Girl," he commanded, his eyes locking hers.

"I love you, David Rossi," she said, as their bodies joined. "I've always loved you."


	11. Sharing Secrets

**You never really know a man until you have divorced him.  
****  
****Zsa Zsa Gabor**

"I think," Deb Chambers said, setting down her martini, "That you're the first of David's women that I've actually liked."

"You've met the others?"

"I met his third wife," she allowed, "Didn't like that bitch."

"I didn't like her either," Lisa agreed. "Of course, she really didn't like me."

"Well, Darling, you were sleeping with her husband," she laughed.

"True, but hey, if she wasn't such a bitch, maybe he wouldn't have been sleeping with me."

"Good point," she agreed. "I told him from the moment I met her that she was trouble. Come on, she had no career, no life…" she shook her head. "I have no idea what he was thinking." Deb waved her hand, dismissing the thoughts of the third Mrs. Rossi, "Now, you on the other hand. I see what he likes in you."

With a grin, Lisa said, "The red hair?"

"We're the only two red heads who actually lasted more than a night or two," Deb said, holding her drink up in mock toast. "Any way, as I was saying. I do see what he likes in you. You stand up to him."

"This time, I do," she allowed.

"You're worried about him," she observed.

"Yeah, he was a wreck when he left for Indianapolis yesterday," Lisa explained. "But at least he's got most of the BAU out there with him now."

"I really hope he solves that case this time," was Deb knows reply. "It's been eating at him for years. It's time to put it to bed." With a shrug, she finished her martini and looked into the empty glass. Looking over, she noticed that Lisa's glass had but a mouthful left. "Finish that, let's get another round."

XXXXX

Two more rounds and a couple of plates of appetizers later, they were still talking and laughing.

"He's so going to hate me after tonight," Deb said, as the bartender brought them fresh drinks. "I'm giving away all of his secrets."

"I'm doing my share, too," Lisa admitted, "Although, I've yet to see him fall down a flight of stairs."

Deb let out a loud laugh, then, "I've got to admit, Lisa, from what you've told me, he really seems to be going all out for you. I mean, he treated me really well when we were dating, but not half as well as he seems to be treating you."

"I know. You've got to promise you won't repeat this, but I really feel guilty sometimes."

"Don't," Deb said, narrowing her eyes. "Do not feel guilty for one moment about making him spoil you rotten. That man has gone through more disposable women in his life, it's about time he steps up and actually puts forth some effort."

"I thought you said he worked at your marriage."

"He did, but I think it was more to preserve the friendship. Looking back at it, I think Dave would have made a better brother for me. But, we parted as peacefully as we could. I know he jokes around about his exes, but I really didn't ask for that much at the end. Just half of what we got together and what was mine to start."

"That's only fair," Lisa agreed, "That's the way my ex and I did it."

"Okay, so you've got to tell me," Deb said, with an impish smile, "Has he started making noises about you becoming the fourth Mrs. Rossi?"

"Honestly? We don't talk about it. I can't even think about marriage, Deb. That just never figured into our relationship before."

"Of course it didn't. You were both already married."

"Don't remind me," she sighed. "In some ways, it was easier back then. We didn't have to work at a relationship. We just got together when we could."

"Let me guess, adjoining hotel rooms and room service dinners while you were on a case?"

"You know his MO," Lisa laughed.

"Yeah, and I know him well enough to know that he has it bad for you," Deb fondly said. "I saw that look in his eyes when you were walking over. We met up about a month after he and Janelle divorced. He just looked pitiful. I thought he was all broken up about divorcing her. Turns out he was more broken up over losing you." Deb looked at her. "Don't look at me like you're shocked. Come on, Girl, you know he was head over heals for you."

"He was?" she asked, playing it cool.

"You didn't see it," she said, clearly surprised. "Tell me you thought it was just sex to him."

"Well, after not hearing from him for months, I figured that I was in it for love, but he was in it for sex. I guess I thought it didn't mean as much to him as it did to me."

"Boy, were you wrong," she sniffed. "Now, this one, you really cannot tell him I told you."

"Please, Deb," Lisa laughed, "If I told him half the stuff you told me tonight…"

"Okay, well, this one I really need you to keep to yourself," she prefaced, then, "The night we met up, after he and Janelle divorced. Well, he drank about half a bottle of Glenfidich and I ended up pouring him home. I was single at the time and never could resist him, so we ended up in bed," she paused, gauging Lisa's reaction. Seeing that she hadn't upset or offended the younger redhead, she went on. "Any way; afterwards, he totally lost it. He told me how he screwed up and let you walk out of his life. We sat up and talked all night. Real introspective stuff. He said he only had two regrets in his life. One of them was letting you slip away."

"What was the other?"

"This one shocked the hell outta me. He said he regretted that none of his marriages produced any children. Sure, he knew divorce could be hell on kids, but it would've been nice to have someone to carry on the family name."

Lisa nodded, a strange numbness settling in her heart.

"You didn't know that, did you?" Deb asked, her tone soft.

Lisa shook her head, "No. He never said anything."

Deb raised a brow, "I'm surprised he didn't."

"I'm not," she admitted, then seeing Deb's curious expression, she explained. "My ex and I had tried for a while to have a baby. When we didn't conceive, we went to the doctor. They tested us both. Turns out I was the problem. Something about a tipped uterus and some sort of blockage in the tubes. He just about said that there was no hope. Sure, I could go have the blockage removed and try again, but there was no guarantee that it would even work. Shortly after that, Dave and I started our affair and it didn't much matter any more."

Deb squeezed Lisa's hand. "I'm sorry, Lisa."

She shrugged. "I've made peace with it. Besides, for the past few years, I haven't exactly been in a monogamous relationship. So, not being able to get pregnant was probably a good thing."

"And now, you're sitting there wondering if he still wants kids, right?"

"Damn, did he teach you how to profile too?" Lisa laughed.

"I taught him a few things," she winked. "Don't worry about kids. I think he's gone past that stage in his life. I know right now, he's probably just happy as hell to have you back."

"You think so?"

Deb winked, "I know so. Now, come on, let's order desert."

"**When one door closes, another opens; but we often look so long and so regretfully upon the closed door that we do not see the one which has opened for us."**

**Alexander Graham Bell**

Solving the Galens' murder was a bittersweet triumph. Despite the raw deal that life had handed him, Joe Landon was going to be punished for his crimes and hopefully, the Galen children could get on with their lives.

When they walked back into the BAU, he had planned on finishing up the report and then heading home. Instead, he had to have a little man to man talk with Kevin Lynch. He'd nearly forgotten that he'd interrupted a night of romance between Lynch and Penelope Garcia prior to leaving for Indiana.

With Lynch reassured that Rossi wasn't overly concerned with his relationship with Garcia, Rossi finished his paperwork, handed it in to Hotch and said his goodnights to the rest of the group.

He walked out of the BAU office and made a path directly to the CASMIRC offices. With a purpose, he walked through their bullpen and upstairs to Lisa's office. Of course she was there, seated at her desk, typing furiously on the keyboard of her computer. He stopped, just out of her line of sight and watched her for a moment.

She was dressed in a black skirt and pale green blouse. Her black suit jacket draped over the back of her chair. He faintly remembered that she'd told him she was teaching a class at the Academy that morning. Having been out of the office all morning, he was sure she felt that she was behind and would probably stay late to catch up. That wasn't going to happen tonight, not if he had anything to say about it.

She spotted him as he walked into the office and graced him with a smile. She told him she was happy to see that he was back and got up from her desk and gave him a hug. To his surprise, when he asked her to leave with him, she didn't protest.

She drove, telling him he looked exhausted. Instead of taking him back to Little Creek, she took him to her place in Woodbridge. It was just as well, he didn't think he could stand the nearly two hour trip to his house. The hug in her office was just a tease and he needed much more than that.

Once they walked inside and closed the door, she offered him dinner or maybe a drink. He refused both offers, telling her what he really needed, as he pulled her close and kissed her.

She responded with a hungry kiss of her own, then led him back to her bedroom.

XXXXX

As they made love, Lisa was struck by his need for her. There was a passion and urgency to his love making that he'd never displayed before. It was raw and pure and when they lay back, finally satiated, she found herself drained, physically and emotionally.

He'd called her from Indianapolis, telling her that they'd solved the case. He'd given her all the details, so there was no need to rehash it. Instead, they just lay, wrapped in each other's arms.

"So," she said, her breathing finally returning to normal, "Should we get some dinner?"

He shook his head, "Not yet."

She kissed him softly, smoothing the hair at his temple. "How are ya?"

"I was numb," he said, with a soft smile.

"I'm glad you said _was_," she smartly said, "Because that was not the work of a numb man."

His smile grew a bit, "Are you complaining?"

"Hell, no."

"Good…" he said, kissing her. "I love you."

"I love you," she returned, with a smile of her own.

XXXXX

"It's over," she said, "And you can put it all past you."

He nodded, watching her neatly manicured nails trace a lazy pattern across his chest.

"Are you going to stay with the Bureau?" she asked.

Hotch had asked him the same question on the flight home and he gave her the same answer; "I have to. I'm not ready to give it all up again."

"Are you sure? You could write another book…"

"I can do that while I'm working," he countered, kissing her deeply. "I'm not ready to retire again."

"Deb said you wouldn't retire," she mused.

"And just how much time have you spent talking to her?"

"We had drinks and dinner last night," she dismissed.

"Why does that thought frighten me?"

"It shouldn't. For an ex-wife, she's your biggest fan."

"Deb's a good woman," he agreed. "If you've got to spend time with one of my exes, she'd be the best one. Of course, the stories she could tell you…" he watched as a devilish smile crossed her features. "Ah, I see, she did tell you those stories."

"You were a wild one," she used Deb's term for him.

"What do you mean, I was?" he winked, "I've still got it…" he said, stifling a yawn.

"Yes, you do," she said with a laugh, "Why don't you get some rest?"

"Will you stay with me?"

"Of course," she replied, holding him close.

For the first time in as long as he could remember, David Rossi felt truly relaxed. He felt himself drifting off to sleep, secure in the knowledge that tonight, the children wouldn't scream.


	12. The Last Thing They Thought Would Happen

**The only thing that should surprise us is that there are still some things that can surprise us.**

**Francois De La Rochefoucauld **

Lisa O'Reilly was numb. In her career with the FBI, she'd seen and heard things that no human being should ever experience. Yet, she'd managed to walk away from them with only a mild lingering tinge of the horror she'd witnessed.

It amazed her that a few simple words said over a telephone could leave her with a cold, creeping numbness. She sat, holding her cell phone, staring at the offending piece of technology as if it were the phone's fault. She thought, momentarily of throwing the phone at the wall, but her arm wouldn't move.

Her trance was broken by the sound of Aaron Hotchner's voice from the doorway to her office. "Lisa? Are you okay?" he asked, not waiting for an invitation to enter the room.

She turned her head to face him, her arm finally moving, allowing her to flip her phone shut and set it on her desk. "How long have you been standing there?"

"Just long enough to hear you say goodbye to who ever was on the phone," he said, stopping at her desk. "What the hell happened?"

"Just some follow up to a case," she dismissed, forcing on a smile that she knew he'd see through.

Placing both hands on her desk, he leaned forward and in a quiet voice, he said, "You've been feeling like shit for the past week and the morning after the doctors appointment that you had to be strong armed into, you look like someone just handed you a death sentence. I highly doubt that was follow up on a case."

"I'm going to have to find friends who can't profile me," she muttered, then, standing up so that she was face to face with her old friend, she proceeded to paste on her best poker face and lie her ass off, "Believe it or not, I am fine. I have not yet heard from the doctor, but I promise, when I do, you will be the first person I call, okay?"

Hotch's stance softened, "You know, I am allowed to be concerned when one of my friends is sick and acting strangely."

"I know, Hotch," she smiled, "And I'm grateful that you are concerned. God knows, if we didn't have each other to pull us through we both would have quit the Bureau years ago. But, trust me. I'm okay. You will be the first person I tell if I hear anything to the contrary."

He offered her one of his rare smiles, and then recalled his original purpose for coming to her office. "We won't speak of it again. Now, did you happen to find those missing child reports I'd asked for?"

She lifted a thick manila folder from her desk and held it out to him. "Tell Garcia they're out on the shared drive under CASMIRC. I just printed them out because I know you like the feel of paper between your fingers."

"Leave my fetish out of it," he returned in kind, then, "You sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine," she promised.

"Okay," he replied, walking to the door. "Call me if you need anything."

"Always," she winked, watching as he walked out of her office. Once he was gone, she allowed her mind to return to the problem at hand. She found that numbness was replaced with anger. She'd been sloppy, allowing herself to be lulled into a false sense that her life would actually go somewhat as she wanted. Of course, fate stepped in and now, she had one monumental problem to deal with. Looking down at her cell phone with contempt, she decided that she did not create this problem on her own; therefore, she wasn't going to deal with it on her own.

With a purposeful stride, she walked out of her office. The group assembled in her bull pen came from various law enforcement agencies across the country. Their combined experience was way more than any one person could attain in their lifetime, yet she'd been given the job of choreographing their moves. She likened it to herding kittens into a basket. They all had their own ideas of what they needed to do and would hop off towards those goals, she needed to rein them in and make sure their efforts were united. They'd all long since learned that they could only push her so far before the claws came out. They'd also learned how to recognize when Lisa was on a mission. The set of her jaw and her long legged stride told them heads were going to roll. For all of their bust and bravado, they knew to stay out of the redhead's very determined way.

This morning, they watched her go by, wondering which poor sap was going to feel her wrath. When she walked out of the double doors, they breathed a collective sigh of relief, knowing it was some other poor sap from some other department.

XXXXX

David Rossi finished his third cup of coffee of the morning. He'd been in the office since some obscenely early hour of the morning, pouring over detailed handwritten notes they'd found in the home of a suspected spree killer. This guy was one sick pup and just reading this crap was turning his stomach. However, if his hand writing was any smaller and cramped on the page, Rossi thought he would go totally blind trying to read it.

Looking up from the papers, he massaged his temples. Closing his eyes for a moment or two to rest them, he allowed his normally busy mind to simply go blank. His moment of peace was interrupted by the sound of his office door shutting. It wasn't a resounding slam, signifying the anger of his visitor, but it was definitely shut with force.

Forcing his eyes open, he found a very agitated Lisa O'Reilly standing in front of his desk. He knew it was cliché, but he really did find her amazing sexy when she was pissed off, color rose in her cheeks and her green eyes took on a certain glint, almost like when she was aroused.

"Don't look at me like that," Lisa snapped, pulling him from his desirous musings.

He knew instantly that he was the target of her wrath. "What's wrong?" he tried, bracing for her response.

"What's wrong?" she echoed.

"That's the question I asked," he countered, studying her. There was something in her eyes that told him that whatever was wrong was very serious. "Did you hear from the doctor?"

"Yes," she said, dropping into the chair by his desk. "They called this morning and gave me my diagnosis."

She looked tired, defeated, but the anger was still there, simmering. What the hell had that doctor said to her? "Okay, Little Girl, spill it. No matter how bad it is, we'll get through it together."

Anger flashed back into her face and she hissed, "You're damn right we will. It's your fault anyway."

"My fault? What's my fault?"

In a quiet, controlled voice, she said, "You got me pregnant."

"I what?" he asked, needing to hear the words again.

"I said you got me pregnant, what part of that do you not understand?" she hissed.

"Pregnant," he repeated, trying desperately to control the smile he felt forming.

"Yes," she said, "And don't you dare smile at me!"

"I'm not smiling."

"Oh, yes you are," she insisted, "Don't even tell me you aren't."

"You have to admit, this isn't tragic news. The way you waked in here, I expected something worse."

She stopped, looking at him with venom in her eyes. "Of course this isn't any big thing to you. You did your part already. Now, it all falls on me…"

"Wait a minute," he said, standing up. "It does not all fall on you."

"Really? You're going to carry this thing for nine months and give birth to it?"

"I can't do that," he softly said, "But you make it sound as if I'm going to walk away from you."

"That's not what I meant," she sighed, looking down at her hands. "Don't you get it? This was not supposed to happen. Check my medical records, it's all there, blocked tubes, tipped uterus and the very neatly written words that chances for conception are minimal even if they went in and unblocked the blockage." She looked up at him, "So, just how is that you managed to produce one of those little buggers strong enough to bust through all of that?"

He laughed at her line, knowing instantly that it was the wrong thing to do. "I'm sorry," he quickly said.

"Oh, I don't think you are," she returned.

"Do you think I did this on purpose? Like I had a sperm pep rally and taught them some tube blockage end run?" he returned, still laughing.

"You're not funny," she shot back, standing up.

"Lisa," he soothed, taking her by the arms, "I promise you, I didn't do this on purpose."

She took a deep breath and released it slowly. He could see rationality returning to her eyes. "I know you didn't. This is just the last thing I ever thought would happen. Come on, Dave, you know the whole story."

"I know," he said, "I'm just as surprised as you are."

"But you're smiling," she said, glaring at him. "You're happy about this."

"I suppose I am," he thoughtfully said.

"What? What are you thinking?"

He shook his head; he wasn't going to take it there. He didn't want to tell her about Janelle, wife number three, and how she had discovered she was pregnant, some time shortly before he started his affair with Lisa. Janelle didn't tell him, she simply went and terminated the pregnancy. It didn't fit in with her plans. He found out during one of their last, heated arguments, when she threw that hurtful tidbit at him like a dagger. All of the guilt he'd felt over cheating on her disappeared, replaced with a burning hatred. His third divorce was his most bitter and he fought her every attack, although, looking back at it, he should have just given her what she asked. He probably spent more money in legal fees fighting her than he would have spent if he would have just given in.

"Dave?" she asked, her anger momentarily replaced by concern. "You can't push me off. Tell me what you're thinking."

"I was wondering what your intent was," he began, maneuvering the conversation back to her. Still haunted by the past, he wanted to know if he was going to lose a second child to vanity. Although, deep in his heart, he knew she wouldn't do it, he still needed to hear her say it.

"My intent?"

"Yes, your intent. It is still your body and despite what the Pope says, abortion is still legal…"

"Oh my God," she said, anger returning. "You did not even go there. What on earth would possess you to ask me such a thing?"

"With the head of steam you had walking in here, I don't know what you were thinking," he tried, saying a silent prayer of thanks that he hadn't misjudged her.

"This may not be what I had planned on but there's no way…" He watched as she struggled with her thoughts, trying to find a way to put them to words. She took a deep breath and gathered herself, then, in an even tone she spoke. "I was told that I would never have a child of my own and now I am. How could I ever possibly even think of not having it? I came in here to tell you but no matter what you said to me, there was never a doubt that I would go through with this."

He smiled at her and pulled her into his arms. "I know, I just needed to hear you say it."

"You're leaving out pertinent information," she insisted, as he held her at arms length and studied her. "There's something behind this."

"There is…and I'll tell you later…but right now, I just want to focus on this," he smiled broadly. "We're having a baby."

"Oh God, we are," she laughed. "How screwed up is this?"

"This," he said kissing her, "Is everything I could have ever wished for."

"Really? You're not just saying that because I'm pregnant and could have a major mood swing at any time."

"Shit, I forgot about that part," he dryly returned, earning a swat in the arm. "Ow…"

"Watch it you," she said, finally gazing out of the window of his office. "Um…Dave…we're on display here."

"Yeah, I know," he said. "Eventually they're going to figure it out, Little Girl."

"Oh God," she sighed, "How am I going to do this? With all of the stuff I see every day…"

"You will do it," he firmly said, keeping her grounded, "And you will do it well. I know you. You love this job too much to abandon it. Just remember, if it gets to be too much, I'm right here."

"Okay," she said, with a look of determination. "We're going to do this. Together, right?"

"Together," he agreed.


	13. Living Through the Mayhem Pt 1

**Every woman is a rebel, and usually in wild revolt against herself.****Oscar Wilde **

Rossi would have loved to say that after the initial shock wore off, Lisa embraced her pregnancy and became the picture of a happy, glowing, pregnant woman. But this was Lisa, and Lisa's views on life were just a bit different.

Being over 40, she was automatically deemed a high risk pregnancy, this didn't sit well with her at all. She resented the fact that she was considered old for a first pregnancy and made sure her obstetrician was well aware of that fact. To his credit, Dr. Jack Walker took her tirade in stride and wisely stopped referring to her age as a factor in her pregnancy.

Once Dr Walker told her that the first three months were the most critical and that if she carried the baby past 12 weeks, she should be in the clear, Lisa decided that no one, not even their families would know about the baby until she passed the first trimester. She didn't want to get anyone's hopes up.

He went along with her, until a very concerned Aaron Hotchner cornered him in his office late one evening, long after Lisa had gone home. Despite her constant assurances that she was okay, Hotch did not believe for one second that she was. Figuring that if anyone knew the details of Lisa's condition, it would be Rossi, he went to him for answers. Closing the door and swearing his friend to secrecy, Rossi told him the truth, down to Lisa's reasoning for not sharing the news with him. Hotch understood and vowed to not only keep the secret, but to help his friend keep an eye on Lisa.

If pressed, Rossi would have to say that keeping news of the pregnancy to himself was much easier than watching her deal with the morning sickness. Prior to her diagnosis and for three long weeks afterwards, it wreaked havoc with her world. Only it wasn't just in the morning, it was all day long. Food turned her stomach, as did her old stand by, Diet Pepsi. The only things that she could hold down were pretzel rods and Dr. Pepper. Neither of which were normally stocked in the vending machines. Without being overly obvious, he'd managed to make sure her office was always properly stocked with both.

Eventually though, the morning sickness wore off and, although she still couldn't stomach the Diet Pepsi, she was able to eat normally during the day. She'd lost five pounds, something that didn't thrill the doctor, and he made her promise that she would eat sensibly but work to put that weight back on.

Stepping on the scale, that warm May morning, she looked crestfallen. "I don't get it," she said, walking back into the bedroom. "I'm eating. I really am…but I've only gained three pounds."

"Give it time, you'll gain more," he promised, buttoning his shirt. He watched her walk through the room, wearing only her bra and panties. Her body was changing, he could see it already.

"What?" she asked, pulling on her blouse and buttoning it. "Damnit, my freaking boobs are getting bigger." She cast an evil glance his way, "And before you say anything stupid, think twice."

"Sorry," he laughed, "I'm not complaining."

"We'll see how much you complain when I go out and buy all new clothes and charge them to your black AMEX," she sniffed, pulling at the blouse, "How bad does it look?"

"Relax, it looks fine."

"Yeah, right, sure," she sighed, pulling on a pair of black trousers. She pulled up the zipper, holding her breath while she tried, unsuccessfully to button the top. "Shit…"

"Lisa, you're pregnant," he gently said, "You knew this was going to happen."

"Yeah, I know, but this soon? If my waist is going at 9 weeks, what's it gonna look like at 20?"

With a smile, he stepped to her, taking her by the arms, "Stop beating yourself up, would you? It's not like you went on a junk food binge. There's a little person in there and as he or she grows, you're going to have to make some room."

She narrowed her eyes, "So, I'm an expandable mobile home, huh?"

"Personally," he said, "I like the changes…"

"That's only cuz my boobs are getting bigger. Wait until I look like a Volkswagen Beetle, then we'll see how much you like the changes," she shot, glancing over his shoulder at the alarm clock. "You need to go to work."

"And you don't?"

"I have to stop at NCMEC headquarters on the way in, I'll be along by noon or so," she explained, giving him a quick kiss. "Let me try to find something to wear."

XXXXX

David Rossi sank into the hotel bed. Sleep wasn't going to come easy, but he knew it had to come. With a yawn, he looked at his watch. It was nearly 11, he debated calling Lisa, thinking she might have fallen asleep. Usually, on the nights they were home, she would stay up to watch the 11 pm o'clock news, but lately, it was a stretch to make it til 10.

The ringing of his cell phone jolted him from his thoughts. Lifting the phone, he flipped it open and placed it to his ear. "Rossi," he gruffly said.

"Oh, I see how it is," Lisa's voice began, "You go off to the Big Apple and forget about me."

He smiled, "I didn't forget about you, Little Girl. It was nonstop all day. This is the first I've stopped since this morning."

"I figured," she allowed, "I also figured you wouldn't call me because you thought you'd wake me up."

"Speaking of which, why are you awake?"

"I dosed off around 9," she said, her voice growing quiet, "Guess I must've rolled over to your side of the bed, because I woke up. I'm getting used to having you around."

"You say that like it's a bad thing," he said with a smile.

"I've been sleeping alone for a long time, Agent Rossi," she returned, "My little world worked very well. Then you came along…now I don't like sleeping alone anymore."

"It's no picnic here, either," he admitted,

"I'm guessing that means you're no closer to solving this than you were last night, huh?"

"Every time we think we're getting a handle on it, something changes," he tiredly replied.

"Ah, one of those."

"Yeah," he agreed. He knew what she was going to do next and he wasn't going to let her. It was late and where talking out a case with her usually helped him process details he may have overlooked, he was not going to keep her up all night. "And, if you were here, we might be sitting up all night hashing this out."

"The phone works just as well, you know that," she offered.

"It's already late. You need your sleep," he gently said, his words met with silence.

"Don't do this," she quietly returned, a trace of anger in her voice.

"Do what?" he asked, surprised by her tone.

"Dumb me down because I'm pregnant," she continued.

"I'm not dumbing you down. But you know damn well you're probably exhausted. You've been through hell the past few weeks and need to rest."

"That may be, Dave, but you're obviously frustrated by this one and maybe I can help."

"I'll make you a deal," he returned, not willing to get into an argument with her. "If we're no closer to solving this tomorrow night, I'll call you and we can sit up til sunrise talking, okay?"

"Now, you're placating me," she returned, her voice softening a bit, "But I don't want to argue. It's late and we're both tired."

"I promise you, I will call you tomorrow night,"

"Don't make promises you can't keep. If something comes up…"

"I am promising you," he softly said, "And you know I keep my promises."

He could hear the smile in her voice, "If you can." She yawned.

"You need to go back to sleep. Call me when you wake up, okay?"

"Okay. Love you."

"I love you, too," he said, then added, "Both of you."

Her soft laughter made him smile. "Well, I don't think he's able to convey emotions yet, but I'm sure the feeling's mutual. I'll email you the ultrasound pictures tomorrow morning. See if you can get Hotch to pull them up for you."

"I'm not that much of a caveman, I can open an email attachment, Little Girl," he laughed, feeling a tug of regret at missing her appointment. "I'll be looking for them."

"**Worry is a thin stream of fear trickling through the mind. If encouraged, it cuts a channel into which all other thoughts are drained."**

**Arthur Somers Roche**

Lisa sat numbly, remote control in hand, listening while the MSNBC anchor talked about the explosion in New York. Two blocks from the Federal Building, a black SUV exploded, no further details were available at this time, but the block had been cordoned off by NYPD.

Her hands shaking, she picked up her cell phone and dialed Rossi's number again. And again, it went to voice mail. Flipping it shut, she turned back to the image on the television. Clearly shot from behind the NYPD barricades, she could see a smoking black SUV. She couldn't see anyone or anything near it. Before she could take in any further details, the face of the in studio anchor returned to the screen.

The anchor stated that their cameraman had been prevented from shooting any further footage by NYPD. They would follow the situation as details developed, but now, they'd go to their Washington correspondent.

"No!" Lisa said, the sound of her own voice startling her. "Your Washington correspondent? Who the hell cares?" She stood up, deciding that she needed to move about the room a bit. Flipping open her phone, she hit redial and again went right to his voice mail. This time, instead of hanging up, she left a message. "Dave, it's me. MSNBC just reported that a black SUV exploded two blocks from the Federal Building in New York…" she felt her bottom lip tremble, and bit it for a moment, cursing her hormones. "I know you're probably in the thick of things up there but if you can just take a minute and call me. Just to let me know it wasn't you…" she stopped, getting a grip on her emotions. "I love you." She said, flipping the phone shut.

Sitting down at her computer, she typed in the MSNBC address and waited while the site came up. Much to her disappointment, there was nothing more available. Quickly, she logged into the FBI network and smiled. Thankful for her high security clearance, she was the recipient of an alert from the New York Bureau. Her smile quickly faded when she saw that due to the possible terrorist activity the street had been blocked off to everyone including first responders. No further details were available at that time, but would be provided at a later time.

"Shit!" she spat, closing the browser window and looking at her phone. "Come on, Dave…just call. Just for a second. A text message, anything!" A burst of inspiration hit her and she flipped open her phone. Searching her address book, she found what she needed. Detective Sgt Steve Franchetti, NYPD. Steve spent six months working out of the CASMIRC office. They'd formed a great working friendship and kept in touch since he returned to NYPD nearly a year ago. Lisa dialed his number and waited, listening to the rings.

After three rings, his rich Brooklyn accent answered, "Franchetti."

"Stevie Boy, it's Lisa O'Reilly," she said, trying her damndest to sound cheerful.

"Hey Lisa, how are ya?" he said.

"Kinda worried, Steve," she said.

"Was that your crew in the SUV near the Federal Building?" he asked, his tone serious.

"I don't know, Steve, that's the problem," she admitted. "I have some good friends that were up there…"

"I don't know anything, Kid. I'm off duty tonight and didn't even bring my radio. If you want, I'll drive down to the station and put an ear out."

"I can't ask you to do that, Steve," she said, praying that he would anyway.

"How good are these friends?" he asked.

Without thinking, she blurted out, "One of them is the father of my child…"

"Child? Did you go and get yourself knocked up?"

"I did," she said, "Nobody knows yet, well, except for me and him, so keep it under your hat."

"Will do," he said, then, "And I'll drive down and nose around. If I hear anything at all, I'll call you."

"I owe you Steve," she sincerely said, welling up with tears.

"Ah, just name the baby after me," he teased. "I'll call you later."

"Thanks," she choked out, as they broke the connection. Catching her reflection in the window, she grew angry. "What the hell are you crying for?" she admonished herself. "God damned hormones," she spat, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. "Okay, get a grip, O'Reilly, do not jump to conclusions and do not fall apart." She quickly dialed Rossi's number again and listened while it went to voice mail. Resisting the urge to throw the phone, she disconnected and looked at the computer again.

Sitting at the desk, she pulled up her personal email account and logged in. She'd gotten home late after a busy day. Exhausted, she sat down in front of the television to eat the Chinese she'd picked up on the way home. She hadn't even thought of checking her email since early that morning. So now, to distract herself, she pulled up her new mail and studied the listing. There was one from her brother, one from her friend Debbie from college, but the last one caused her to pause.

It seemed a lifetime ago that she'd emailed him the latest ultrasound pictures, but it was only 9:30 this morning. Apparently, he managed to sign into his private email account at some point during the day and he replied. Clicking on the email, she watched as it popped open on her monitor.

_From: Hollowman_

_To: PhilyRedHead_

_Subject: Re: Baby Pictures_

_Hello, Little Girl,_

_I told you I was capable of logging into my own email account and opening the attachment. I'm happy that everything went well at the dr this morning, still sorry I missed it. _

_I've looked at the ultrasound pictures three times and I'm sorry, but the kid still looks like an alien, must take after your side of the family. _

_I've got to go, but I promise I will call you tonight._

_I love you, too,_

_Dave_

Lisa re-read the email twice before she realized that the tears were flowing again. Grabbing a tissue from the box near the monitor, she wiped her eyes, then blew her nose with a resounding trumpet, before throwing the tissue in the trash. "Enough," she said, standing up. "You are not going to sit here like some kind of movie heroine. Think, O'Reilly. Who can you call?" And then, a burst of inspiration hit her. "Kevin Lynch!"


	14. Living Through the Mayhem Pt 2

**Adversity draws men together and produces beauty and harmony in life's relationships, just as the cold of winter produces ice-flowers on the window-panes, which vanish with the warmth.**

**Soren Kierkegaard **

Lisa wasn't surprised to hear that Lynch had already heard about the explosion. She'd been working with him for nearly a year and where he was no Penelope Garcia; the guy knew his stuff and was usually two steps ahead of everyone else. By the time she'd called him; Lynch had already hacked into NYPD's system and was maneuvering past their fire walls to the dispatch records.

Cradling the cordless receiver of her landline in her shoulder, she paced the living room, listening while he furiously tapped and muttered to himself.

"Okay," he said, "This is interesting. It looks like signals for all of the cameras in the New York surveillance grid are being diverted to this one ip address."

"All of them?" she asked, knowing that had to be one hell of a lot of camera feeds.

"There's over 4000 of them," he said, then, "That's got to be where Garcia is."

"Can you contact her? Without being detected?"

Lynch laughed, "can the Pope speak German?'

"God, I hope so," she sighed, feeling a faint glimmer of hope begin to rise.

"Okay, I sent a system query box, but overwrote the pre coded message asking her the status of the team," he rambled.

Lisa knew a bit about computers, but not that much, "Okay?" she said, more of a question than an affirmation.

Sensing that she was lost, Lynch explained, "The system query is usually a box that pops up and has some pre coded message about what the program is searching for, such as virus scan running, searching for free space…something like that."

"Okay," she nodded, "But won't someone be able to see that message?"

"No, not the way I've done it. They'll think they're seeing the precoded message. Only Pen's computer monitor will have the actual message." He stopped, taking a deep breath and releasing it slowly. "Now, let's just hope she answers, he concluded, a tinge of worry in his voice.

Lisa wore a fond smile, "I'm sure she's okay, Kevin," she assured him.

"And I'm sure Agent Hotchner is, too," he added in kind.

"Agent Hotchner?" she asked, curiously. Did he think she was involved with Hotch?

"Yes, Ma'am. I know that you two are…" he seemed to be searching for the right word. "Close?"

"We've been friends for years, Kevin," she dismissed, "We started in the BAU about the same time."

"Yes, Ma'am, I know," he returned, with a knowing tone.

She swore that if she could see him, he'd be winking. What the hell was he thinking? Hotch? That would be like dating her brother! She almost corrected him, almost blurted out that he had the wrong SSA, but instead, she stayed quiet. She let him go on with the wrong idea.

Lynch's excited voice came back over the line. "She's okay," he answered.

"What? How do you know?"

"I got the following response," he said, then, reading, "This is Officer Bartleby from NYPD. I've been working with Penelope. She's fine, but upset."

"And the rest of the team?" Lisa demanded.

"She didn't say, Ma'am, but I've messaged her back."

"Shit," she spat, pacing harder.

"She just wrote back," he said. "She says, two injured, all others okay."

"Two injured?" she said, fear gripping her heart. "Which two?"

"I asked her, I'm waiting for a response. Stay calm…"

"I'm trying," she lied, picking up her cell phone and again dialing Rossi's number. Once again, it went straight to voice mail. "Did she answer?"

"Not yet…"

Lisa looked at the television, noting that the anchor was talking about baseball, she hissed, "Goddamn baseball, who gives a rat's ass?"

"Excuse me?" Lynch asked.

"Sorry, Kevin," she tiredly said, "MSNBC is showing something about the Yankees. Who the hell cares?"

"Still no word, Ma'am," he dutifully reported.

"Thank you, Kevin, I really appreciate this."

"Not a problem, any time I can help," he returned, then, "Just heard back. She says, not sure, one of the older guys and a woman. Sorry I don't have more details."

"One of the older guys," Lisa repeated, "What in the hell does that mean?"

"Well, to me, that would indicate either Agent Hotchner or Agent Rossi," he said.

His words rang in her ears and she felt sick to her stomach. She sat down hard on the sofa.

"Agent O'Reilly," Kevin said, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," she choked out.

"Ma'am, I know you don't know me that well, but if it's okay with you, I'd like to come over there," he offered, clearly nervous. "You probably shouldn't be alone."

"I'll be okay, Kevin. But you really are a doll for offering," she sincerely said.

"Are you sure?"

"I am," she agreed, numbness replacing dread. "I'll tell you what. I'm going to let you go, just in case Penelope calls. If you hear anything at all, will you promise to call me?"

"The minute I hear anything, I will call you."

"Thank you, Kevin," she softly said, "thank you very much.'

"Call me if you need me, okay?" he offered.

"I will," she said, as they broke the connection. Hands shaking, Lisa set the phone down on the coffee table. She took a deep breath, willing herself to calm down. "Come on, just relax…"

Without thinking, she picked up the cordless and dialed a familiar number. After two rings, the line was answered. "What's wrong, Lisa Rose?" the gruff voice of Frank O'Reilly asked.

"What makes you think something's wrong, Dad?" Lisa smiled.

"You're calling me at 10:30," he rationalized, "Last time you called this late it was to tell me that Nick left you. So, what's going on, Daughter?"

"Do you have to work tomorrow?" she asked.

"Not until 4," he chuckled, "So, I've got all night. Talk to me, Kiddo."

And talk she did. Over the next two hours, Lisa told him almost everything she'd been keeping from him. She told him how she'd started seeing Rossi again, about everything he'd done for her, about how they were making a go of it and things were going well. She told him all of it, except for the part about him becoming a grandfather. After he'd questioned her sanity and Rossi's intentions, she came back with her argument, convincing him, at least partly, that his oldest daughter hadn't completely lost her mind.

Then, once he'd heard all of that, she told him about tonight. He listened while she cried, talked her down from her anger, recited the Lord's Prayer for her, and made her promise that she would call him when she heard anything. It was nearly one am when she looked at the clock. "Shit, Dad, I've talked your ear off. I've kept you on the line for three hours."

"And if you were closer, Reds, I'd be there holding your hand," he softly said. "You know, I love you, don't you."

She felt her eyes filling with tears again, "Yeah, Dad, I do. I love you too."

"You want to keep talking? I can brew up a pot of coffee."

"No…" she said, interrupted by the ringing of her cell phone. She looked at the display screen, reading Rossi's number. "Dad…"

"Go, Reds. Call me in the morning."

"Bye," she said, disconnecting the cordless and picking up her cell. Flipping it open, she placed it to her ear, "Hello?"

"Lisa," Rossi's voice began and in the one word she could hear so much emotion.

"Oh my God," she said, her voice a whisper, "You're okay."

"I'm okay, Little Girl," he assured her.

"Was it Hotch?"

"He was in the SUV," he calmly explained. "He's okay…"

"What happened?"

"Sweetheart, I love you and I will tell you the whole story, but not now. I just lived it. I need to digest it."

"Is Hotch hurt badly?" she asked, frightened for her friend.

"No, he suffered some hearing loss and a few bruises," he said.

"Who was the other agent? I heard two agents were injured."

"Kate Joyner from the New York office," he said.

"How is she?"

"She didn't make it."

Emotion over took her and the tears started again. This time, she didn't try to stop them.

"You okay?" he quietly asked.

"No," she returned, choking back a sob.

"Hey," he soothed, emotion straining his voice, "No tears…"

"I can't help it," she went on, giving into the overload of emotions she'd experienced that evening. "I know, that whatever you went through was infinitely worse, but I've been sitting here...not knowing…"

"I couldn't call you, I was neck deep…" he trailed off.

"I thought you were fucking dead," she cried.

"I'm okay."

"I know…"

The sound of her sobs tore at his heart and he wished he was there to comfort her. He spoke, quietly, his voice echoing in the empty hotel room.

"I'm sorry, My Love," he quietly said, "I am so sorry. Please don't cry."

"I'm sorry," she sniffed.

"You've got nothing to be sorry for…"

"Neither do you…"

"Hey, come on…" he said, unable to listen to her sobbing. "Do you want me to drive home?"

"No," she sniffed, willing herself to stop crying. "No. You're exhausted; I can hear it in your voice. I don't want you driving. Just go to sleep. Rest…"

"Listen, we're all going back to the BAU tomorrow when we get home…"

"I'll be in my office," she said.

"It's late, you're tired, maybe you should…" he began, but she cut him off.

"I have to be there. I have a conference call at 9."

"Okay, do me a favor?" he asked, "Go lie down, get some sleep. I promise, as soon as I sign off on the paperwork, I'll come to your office, okay?"

"Okay," she quietly said.

"I love you, Little Girl," he softly said.

"I love you too," was her quiet reply. "Good night."

Before he could answer her, her voice was replaced by the dial tone.

"**The advantage of the emotions is that they lead us astray."**

**Oscar Wilde**

Yawning, Lisa disconnected from her conference call and picked up her coffee cup full of Dr. Pepper. After taking a long drink, she set the mug down. She was exhausted and seriously contemplating leaving the office. But she knew she couldn't. She had way too much work to do.

She closed her eyes for a moment, breathing deeply, centering her exhausted mind. Hearing the sound of her office door closing, she opened her eyes to find Rossi walking across the room.

She stood up and walked around the desk, meeting him in the middle of the room.

"Hi," she said, studying him. He looked tired and drained, but he wore a smile.

"Hello, Lisa," he said, holding his arms open.

She stepped to him and he pulled her close. They stood, holding each other tight.

"You're going to tell me the whole story," she said, pulling back and looking at him.

"I promise you," he seriously said, taking her face in his hands. "Do you have any idea how much I love you?"

"Show me," she said.

"Here?" he asked, brow raised. "Where everyone can see it?"

"Shut up and kiss me, Damnit," she said, leaning forward and kissing him. At that point, she didn't care who knew about their thinly veiled relationship. She just wanted to hold him in her arms.

He pulled her close and returned the kiss. Holding her tightly, he breathed in the scent of her perfume, its light floral scent familiar and reassuring. Breaking it off a few moments later, he pulled back and locked her eyes with his. "Come home with me."

"But…"

He shook his head, "It's not a request, Lisa. The team's on stand down and I need to get away from here for a couple of days. Come with me to my place. I want you with me. I'll clear it with Strauss, if you need me too, but you're leaving with me now."

"Dave, I don't exactly have a ready bag full of clothes that will fit. I need to pack…"

"Screw the packing," he dismissed. "You need new clothes; I'll take you to the outlets in Williamsburg tomorrow."

She didn't even try to mask her surprise. "You're willingly offering to take me shopping? You really must need to get out of here."

"Little Girl, in the past 24 hours I've helped to thwart a terrorist plot and very nearly lost a very dear old friend. I've been pissed off, frustrated, and haven't slept worth a shit. And believe it or not, through out it all, I kept thinking that everything would have been a little bit easier to take if I had you to talk to, if I could just see your smile."

"Sweet talker," she laughed, but his serious expression didn't waver.

"So? What do you say? I'm going to Little Creek and turning off the phone. I don't want to see or hear from anyone remotely connected with the FBI, except you. Come with me."

His expression was so serious, so earnest and his voice revealed the emotions that were bubbling just beneath the surface. Sure, she had work to do, but she always did. She was exhausted and drained and felt as if she could sleep for days. She knew she could duck out early with no problem; she'd just take her laptop and check in from Little Creek.

"What are we waiting for?"


	15. Planning for the Future

**True heroism is remarkably sober, very undramatic. It is not the urge to surpass all others at whatever cost, but the urge to serve others, at whatever cost.**

**-**_**Arthur Ashe**_

David Rossi lay in bed, wishing he could just fall asleep, even for a little while. But his mind just wouldn't shut down. He lay, holding Lisa, who'd had no problem falling asleep. He'd watched as the afternoon sky changed from midday brightness to dusk, knowing that the sun was setting on the other side of the house by the light it cast.

They'd made it out to Little Creek by lunch time, although neither one of them wanted food. They'd hardly spoken on the ride from Quantico, exhaustion setting as they drove. She suggested that they lay down for a bit and he was more than happy to allow her to take his hand and lead him upstairs.

He watched, as she changed from her suit to pair of his sweatpants and a t-shirt, and then padded, barefoot to the bed. She lay down, patting the bed next to her, asking him to join her.

His intent had been simply to lay with her, but when he took her in his arms and kissed her, she responded passionately. Driven by exhaustion coupled with emotion, they made love. He didn't know if it was because of her raw emotions or the pregnancy or a combination of both, but she was extra sensitive, responding to every move and touch more so than usual. Her response worked wonders on his libido and by the time they were done, his body was more than ready for a long nap.

Unfortunately, his mind stayed alert. She'd slept, soundly, for the rest of the afternoon. Although he knew she needed the rest, he knew she hadn't eaten anything all day. This couldn't be good for the baby. She hadn't even put back the five pounds she'd lost due to her morning sickness. No, he needed to wake her and make her eat.

Gently rubbing her arm, he softly said, "Wake up, Little Girl…"

She stirred slightly, eyelids fluttering a bit, then fell back to sleep.

"Come on, Lisa," he said, a bit louder. "Wake up…"

"Tired," she mumbled.

"I know so am I," he continued, "But you need to eat."

"Not hungry…"

"You haven't eaten all day," he rationalized.

She opened her eyes and after taking a moment to focus, she looked at him. "What time is it?"

"A little after 7."

"Shit," she ran her hands through her hair, "I slept all day." She looked at him, "You haven't slept at all, have you?"

He shrugged.

"Dave," she continued, "I know you too well, you're holding something back. Talk to me."

"I wanted to wait until after we had something to eat," he began, but she shook her head. She wasn't going to let him get out of bed without telling her what was on his mind. That much, he could tell by the set of her jaw. Taking a deep breath, he spoke. "I've been laying here thinking."

"About?"

"Us," he admitted, "The baby."

"And?"

He was too tired and strung out to mince words, so he decided to just lay it all on the line. "We need to stop pretending that we're not having a baby, Lisa. We need to own up to it and start making some plans."

"We're going to buy maternity clothes tomorrow," she said, the subtle shift of her eyes telling him that she wasn't ready to own up to it. Unfortunately, he was and he was going to have to convince her that she was too.

"That's not what I mean," he countered. "While we were in New York, right before the explosion, JJ admitted that she was pregnant."

Lisa's eyes lit up, "She is?"

He nodded, "Apparently, Montagne came up to New York to pledge his love and devotion and Reid, Hotch, and Prentiss walked in on it. She had no choice but to confess."

"Wow," she nodded. "When's she due?"

"A couple of weeks before you."

"Good," Lisa decided, "I won't be the only pregnant woman on the third floor."

"No, JJ will be, because you're probably going to pretend you're not pregnant until sometime after your delivery," he dryly said, watching as her eyes narrowed.

"Not funny, Dave," she shot.

"It wasn't meant to be," he shot back. "I'm starting to think you're embarrassed by this."

"Of course I am," she returned, as if he were a slow child. "I'm a grown woman in my 40's and I managed to let my boyfriend knock me up! If that doesn't scream "slut" I don't know what does!"

"Are you calling Jennifer Jareau a slut?" he challenged.

"No," she said.

"Well, she's in the same position that you are," he countered.

"No, she's not. She's JJ, perfect, smart, blond, cute, little JJ. She will probably be a perfect, cute, petite pregnant woman, the kind that men rush to help open doors and women envy," she went on, color rising in her cheeks. "I, on the other hand, have been a puking monster since day one. I'm already turning into a shapeless lard ass and in another couple of months; I'll be lumbering around the office like some freaking Amazon wrestler from hell. Men won't open doors for me; they'll run out of my way!"

"Lisa," he said, holding back a laugh, "That's not true and you know it."

"And of course, they all waked in on Montagne declaring his love and devotion…" she shook her head.

"Would you like me to do the same thing? I can orchestrate it, if you'd like."

"That's not what I mean," she sighed, tiredly. "You don't get it."

"Apparently, I don't," he shrugged, deciding to change this tactics, "So, I was thinking…"

"You've already stated that. What were you thinking about?"

"The best way to convince you to marry me," he seriously said.

"Marry you?" she repeated, "Marry you?"

"Yes, marry me."

"Dave, listen to what you're saying."

"I know what I just said, Little Girl," he said, not pleased by her reaction, although, he fully expected it to be that way. "I love you, you're having my baby, marriage seems like the logical progression."

"Pregnancy is not a reason to get married," she firmly said. "We're not at that stage, Dave."

"I am," he returned, watching as her hard façade cracked, but only for a second.

"I'm not," she honestly said, her tone softening. "Not yet anyway. I was finally starting to trust you and relax into figuring out our relationship when this happened. I do love you, but marriage? I swore that if I ever did it again, I would be absolutely sure that it would last forever."

"And you're not there, yet," he said, trying to mask his disappointment.

She picked up on it anyway and with a soft smile said, "Not yet. I just need more time before I make that step. I mean, so far you've been here with me through this whole thing. Damn, you've held my hair while I puked. That shows your commitment level to the baby."

"I thought it showed my commitment level to you," he said, watching as she closed her eyes for a moment, trying to gather her thoughts.

"Let's table the engagement until after the baby's born, okay?" she tried, "I promise, I'm not going anywhere. I just want to be free of these frigging hormones when I make this decision, okay?"

"I will ask you again," he promised, deciding to let the marriage issue go.

"I know," she smiled. "So, was that all you were thinking about?"

"Actually, no," he returned, "I thought you might not be on board with the marriage idea, so I came up with Plan B."

Lisa laughed, "Still the schemer, aye?"

He smiled broadly, "When I want something, Little Girl, you know I won't stop til I get it."

"Okay, so what's Plan B?"

"Your condo only has one bedroom," he began. "My house has four."

She shook her head. "I'm not saying no to living together," she began. "But, Little Creek is just too far from Quantico. I can't put the baby in day care there and drive to Quantico every day and I won't drive the baby that far to put it in day care in Quantico."

"I thought you'd say that," he nodded. "Which is why I thought that maybe, we could look for somewhere closer. We could keep my house as a vacation place. If you don't want to sell the condo, we can rent it out."

"Oh, we can sell the condo," she agreed. "I'm tired of the association fees."

Grateful that she was agreeing to Plan B, he went on. "I'll call a Realtor tomorrow and have them start searching for us."

She nodded, then, with a twinkle in her eye, "See, I'm not that big of a bitch."

"Wait until you hear the next thought…" he laughed.

"What?"

"There's no room in your Spyder for a baby seat."

Her smile faded, "Shit, I didn't think about that." She thought for a moment, "Wait, you've got a BMW, it's got four doors."

"You're going to drive my car to work every day? And leave the Spyder for me?"

"Hell no," she said, only half joking, "You're not going to drive my baby any more than I'm going to sell it."

"So, what are you going to drive?"

"Guess we'll have to find another car," she decided, then, eyes narrowed again, "And not a mini van, either."

He laughed at her expression, "I promise no mini-vans."

"A nice little SUV would work," she nodded, "With four wheel drive, of course. Something like a Navigator?"

"A Navigator's a little SUV?"

"Yeah," she smiled smartly, "It is."

Shaking his head, he gave in. "Fine, we'll go look for that tomorrow in between shopping for maternity clothes." He watched as she frowned. "What?"

"I can give up the condo; I can garage the Spyder, but maternity clothes?" She sighed.

"There has to be somewhere in all of those outlet malls that sells professional clothing for pregnant women."

"Yeah, it's called Omar the Tentmaker's shop of horrors," she sighed, placing a hand to her stomach. "I can feel it already, Dave. I'm going to be huge."

He placed his hand next to hers, "its only temporary, My Love."

"Yeah, but if my staff starts running out of the office as I lumber through…"

"I promise I'll corral them back into the bull pen for you, okay?" he said with a wry smile. "Now, what do you say we go down and make some dinner before you starve my child?"

**When you make a commitment to a relationship, you invest your attention and energy in it more profoundly because you now experience ownership of that relationship.**_**Barbara De Angelis **_

Lisa dropped her shopping bags onto the bed and sat down. She was tired and hungry and her head was spinning. When they'd walked out the door at 9 am that morning, she owned a condo, a Mitsubishi Spyder, and two work outfits that actually still fit. Now, eight hours later, she was also the owner of a Lincoln Navigator and enough properly professional maternity clothes to see her through three pregnancies.

She'd discovered that David Rossi on a mission was a dangerous thing, especially when it came to spending her future child's inheritance. She teased him that he'd have to write another book to make up for all of this. He simply dismissed it and told her the manuscript was completed in long hand and had been sent to the typist, then walked her into the Babies R Us store to look for furniture.

She managed to stop him from buying nursery furniture until they actually had a new house to put it in. He had, of course, contacted the Realtor his lawyer recommended before they even walked out of the house that morning.

"That Realtor is good," he said, carrying his laptop into the bedroom. "She sent us listings already."

"Damn, that fast?"

"She said she may even have a buyer for your condo," he went on, sitting on the bed next to her.

She stopped, feeling completely overwhelmed. "Talk about not having time to think…"

"If we want to get settled before the baby is born, we need to get a move on, Little Girl," he softly said, setting the computer on the bed.

"I know," she said, taking a deep breath and releasing it, she felt the urge to cry. Of course, he picked right up on it.

"Hey," he began, "Are you okay?"

She nodded, "Just a little overwhelmed. I'll be okay."

He smiled, pulling her into his arms. "You will. We all will," he said, confidently. "Have a little faith."

She looked at him, surprised to see true joy in his eyes. She'd spent many years profiling David Rossi and probably knew him better than anyone else. As much as she tried to doubt it, his emotions were real and she knew his intent was sincere. She just hoped that she had what it took to be not just the fourth, but the **_final _**Mrs. David Rossi.


	16. Over The Moon

"_**To witness the birth of a child is our best opportunity to experience the meaning of the word miracle."**_

_**Paul Carvel**_

Lisa O'Reilly knew that something was just not right with her body. Now nearly 39 weeks pregnant, she'd learned to deal with the swollen ankles, indigestion, mood swings, and the myriad of other torturous things that the heir to Rossi fortune was doing to her poor body. This, however, was different.

She'd been experiencing Braxton-Hicks contractions for a couple of weeks, but they were usually, one shot episodes. Today, she woke up with them and they had not yet gone away. Refusing to believe that they could possibly be the real thing, she continued to sit at her desk.

"You okay, Ginger Snap?" Penelope Garcia's voice began, pulling her from her thoughts.

Lisa looked up to find the blonde analyst standing in the doorway with a concerned expression. "Yeah, I think so."

"You look kinda pale," Garcia went on, walking in. "What's going on?"

"I'm fine, Pen," she dismissed, then, casually, "So, is the jet back from Atlanta yet?"

Garcia nodded, "That's what I was coming in to tell you. They just landed." The blonde studied her for a long moment, "You are not okay. Spill it. What's going on?"

Feeling a twinge in her side, Lisa rubbed her swollen stomach. "The baby's giving me grief today, that's all."

"No…" Garcia shook her head, "That's not it." Her smile grew, "You're in labor, aren't you?"

"Labor? No," she shook her head. "No way."

"You are! I watched JJ go through this not even two weeks ago! How far apart are the contractions?"

"Ten minutes, now," she admitted, "But I'm not in agony. I'm just uncomfortable."

"Did you call your doctor?"

She shook her head, "No, I was hoping to live through it."

"Stand up," Garcia commanded, bustling across the room to the side of Lisa's desk.

"What?" Lisa laughed, "Pen, what the hell are you doing?"

"Just stand up!"

Slowly, Lisa raised herself from the chair. As she looked down, she realized that her stomach was not sitting as high as it normally did. Forcing down the panic that was threatening to take hold, she looked up to find Garcia with a massive grin.

"You dropped!" Garcia practically cheered. Picking up the receiver of the desk phone, she held it out to Lisa. "Call the doctor. I'll snag Rossi once he gets in the building."

Lisa didn't move. She couldn't. Panic had gripped her like a steel fist. Looking up at Penelope's excited grin, she willed her friend to help snap her out of her shock.

"Hey," Garcia softly said, taking her by the hands. "You're going to be okay. Just take a deep breath. I'll call your doctor, okay?"

Lisa nodded, numbly and sat down hard on her chair. "Shit, Pen, I'm not ready for this."

"Of course you are," Garcia smiled, dialing the phone. "You'll do fine. I know you will."

XXXXX

Nearly five hours later, Lisa lay in bed in one of Georgetown Hospital's labor and delivery suites. Despite the cheerful green paint and the bright smiles of the nurses, Lisa was not in any mood to be cheered.

She looked up at the television, noting that the 6 pm news had just started. Sighing, she looked around at the now empty room. Rossi had departed nearly twenty minutes ago on the premise of getting himself a cup of coffee.

In that twenty minute period, she'd experienced four contractions, each one closer and more painful than any before. She was tired, she was in pain, and she was in no mood to have the father of her child miss any of it. Grabbing the bedside phone, she quickly dialed his cell phone number.

"I'm right here," he said, walking in the door carrying a Styrofoam cup. "The line was outrageous."

"So sorry to hear that," she said, as another contraction hit.

"Breathe, Little Girl, come on…"

"Breathing sucks," she hissed. "You freaking breathe."

"I am breathing," he calmly said, "But I'm not the one in labor."

"No shit," she said, riding out the last of the wave of pain. "You couldn't handle it."

"I probably couldn't," he allowed, taking a cool wet washcloth and running it over her face.

She glared at him, "Stop agreeing with me."

He laughed at her, knowing, as he did, that he'd made a very large mistake.

Her eyes narrowed and she hissed, "Want to survive the birth of your first child?"

"I'm sorry," he softly said, "I didn't mean to laugh."

"Oh, yes you did," she said, then, "Shit…they're getting closer together."

"What?" he watched as another contraction hit.

Reaching out he took her hand, realizing his second mistake of the evening, as she nearly crushed his fingers in his death grip. He knew better than to say a word, quietly enduring the pain. He knew her pain had to be much worse. As the contraction passed, her grip eased slowly, until she released hi s hand. He flexed it to make sure he still had full usage.

"These things are getting worse," she tiredly said. "I'm sorry, Dave, but we're only doing this once."

"I wasn't going to ask for more," he said with a smile. "I'm perfectly happy with one." He took her hand, brought it to his lips and kissed it softly.

"Good," she nodded, feeling the first wave of another contraction begin. "This isn't fair."

"Another one is starting?" he asked, alarm tingeing his voice.

She nodded, "Do me a favor, go find Dr. Walker, okay?"

"He said he'd come back in a bit," he said, watching as the pain gripped her.

".Him," she said through gritted teeth. "I feel like I have to push."

"But you're only dilated 6 centimeters," he rationalized.

Now fully engaged in the pain, she grabbed his shirt and pulled him closer, "Go. Get. The. Fucking. Doctor. Now."

"Okay," he said, recognizing the fear in her eyes. "I'll be right back."

She watched him go as she rode out the end of the contraction. Closing her eyes, she tried to get a moment of rest. But the voice of her obstetrician interrupted her.

"What's going on, Lisa," he calmly asked, pulling on a pair of latex gloves.

"My body wants to push," she said, feeling the next contraction. "And here comes another contraction."

Dr Walker quickly broke down the bed and pulled out the stirrups. He spoke calmly, as he helped Lisa position her legs. "I need to examine you," he began, "So, do not push. Not this time. I will let you know when it's time, okay?"

She nodded as the pain increased.

"Just ride it out, Lisa," Walker coached, pulling up the sheet. He smiled.

"What?" Rossi asked, wondering why in God's name this man was smiling like that. "Why are you smiling?"

"Because, once again, the mother's body knows what to do," he explained, "Lisa, you're completely dilated. With the next contraction, I want you to start to bear down and push, okay?"

"Hell yeah," she nodded, gearing up for the next contraction that had just started to build. "Let's get this over with."

Rossi took his place at her side, watching her as she mentally prepared herself for the birth of their child. It struck him, at that moment, how much he truly loved this woman. Sure, he'd knocked himself out to win her back and she had not made the road an easy one to travel. There were moments where he questioned his own sanity, wondering if it was all worth it. But now, at this moment, he knew that she was paying it all back in spades.

"You with me, Dave?" she asked her face contorting as the pain hit.

"I'm with you, Little Girl," he smiled, gripping her hand, "Squeeze the shit out of my hand if you need to…"

"You know I will," she nodded, turning her attention back to the task at hand.

The next half hour or so passed in a blur and he stood by, watching her admiring her strength. Finally, Dr Walker spoke.

"And there's the head," he said with a smile, "Kid takes after his father."

"God, I hope not," Lisa laughed, trying to catch her breath.

"Come here, Dave, check this out," Walker encouraged.

Rossi looked at Lisa, "I'm gonna need my hand."

"Sorry," she said, releasing it, "Tell me what I'm missing. I refuse to look in the mirror."

He walked down to the foot of the bed, trying like hell to appear casual, as if he was just walking across the room. As he reached the foot of the bed, another contraction hit and he watched as the baby's head emerged. He didn't even try to hide the smile that was spreading. "Kid's got my hair, Lisa."

"Damn dominant genes," she said, through gritted teeth.

"Lisa," Dr Walker chuckled, "You know how genetics works, did you think you'd have a red head?"

"Trust me," Rossi added, "There are no red heads in my family tree."

"If you two are quite done the genetics lesson," Lisa said, "Can you get that kid out?"

Walker's tone once again became business-like, "Okay, with this next one, you're going to pass the shoulders. This is the most painful part, but once they're out, this little one will just slide right through. Are you ready?"

Lisa nodded, as her face took on a mask of calm. Rossi knew that look; he'd seen it come over her at crime scenes, when she had to focus past the carnage and study things analytically. "Here it comes…" she announced, then started to bear down.

"And here go the shoulders," Walker said.

Pulling his eyes from Lisa's face , Rossi focused on the baby, watching as, true to Walker's words, once the shoulders passed, the rest just followed and within a moment's time, Walker was holding a squirming, muck covered infant. His squirming, muck covered infant.

"It's a boy," Walker announced, wrapping the baby in a blanket and setting him on Lisa's stomach.

"A boy?" Lisa laughed, her arms surrounding the baby. "A boy? Damn. Now I'm going to have to live with two Rossi men!"

Rossi watched them, his child and the woman he loved, while they became acquainted. Lisa studied the baby's face, her eyes clear and triumphant, and although he knew she'd kill him, he really wished he'd brought a camera to preserve this moment.

"Dave?" Walker's voice said, pulling him from his thoughts, "Would you like to cut the cord?"

"Hell yeah," he laughed, taking the surgical scissor from the doctor's hand.

"Just cut right between the two clips," Walker instructed. "Like you're using a pair of tin snips."

"Oh, watch it there," Lisa laughed. "Tin snips? Ouch?"

"Relax, Little Girl," Rossi laughed with her, "Or I'll get out the hedge clippers."

"Just cut the damn cord, Rossi?" she said, "And get your ass up here to meet your son."

He snipped the cord and placed the scissors back into Walker's hands. "Anything else you need help with?" he joked.

"Nah, I've got the rest. Go distract her while I mess with the afterbirth," he dismissed.

"Your father thinks he's funny," Lisa said, looking down at her new son.

"Ah, stick with me, Kid," Rossi said, to the baby, "We'll run circles around your mother."

"Spare me, would ya?" she laughed.

"Ms. O'Reilly," the nurse began, "If you don't mind handing him over for a few minutes, we're just going to weigh him and clean him up."

Rossi watched as the nurse scooped the baby up from Lisa's stomach.

"Where are you taking him?" he asked, a brow raised.

"Right over there," the nurse smiled, nodding at the warming bed. "I'll bring him back just as soon as the doctor finishes with Ms. O'Reilly."

"Okay," he said, his eyes following them across the room.

"She's not going to run off with him, Dave," Lisa gently teased.

Turning his attention back to her, he bent and kissed her softly. "How are ya?"

"Sore," she decided, then, "How about you?"

He smiled broadly, "Over the moon about sums it up."

"Good," she nodded. "Enjoy this experience. It will never happen again."

He kissed her again. "I told you, my love, I won't ask."

"Good," she repeated, then, "Now, for the important part. What are we going to name him?"

The question caught him off guard. They'd only discussed girls' names and he wasn't about to name his son Emily or Ariana. No, they needed to come up with a boys' name and quickly. "I don't know, Little Girl, what do you think? You left out the blue pages of that baby name book."

"Well," she began, a soft smile on her lips, "While you were downstairs getting your coffee, I had a thought."

"You're not going to name my son "Eviscerate David Rossi"," he teased.

"After that thought," she laughed. "What would you think of Jason David Rossi?"

"Jason," he repeated.

She nodded, "My nod to Gideon. You know that without him we'd have never met in the first place. He was the one who recruited me into the BAU; he was the one who made me stay."

"He was the one who threatened to kick my ass after we broke up," he allowed. "I like it."

"Here you go, Ms. O'Reilly," the nurse said, handing her the baby. "He weighed in at 8 pounds 2 ounces and was 19 ½ inches long. He's been cleaned up and dressed. He's all yours."

"Eight pounds," she shook her head, "You're a big boy, aren't you?"

"Hey, he's my kid. What do you expect?" Rossi proudly said, studying the baby's face.


End file.
